What There Is In A Bottle Of Ink
by Master Of One
Summary: When Harry is finally able to leave Privet Drive for good, Remus starts to really live. But how will Harry react when Remus decides to start dating again? And what kind of man will he bring home? [slash, WIP. RL?, not Harry]
1. 1: The Papers

LINER NOTES

Hey y'all! Yes, I'm finally back, and yes, I kinda switched genres for awhile. I apologise to all my readers for my long absence (high school . . . ugh). I wanted to experiment with several new things, so here's the first chapter in my first Harry Potter story, which also happens to be my first chapter story and the first story I chose to self-beta (a lot of my favorite authors do it, so I said "what the heck? Let's see if I can do it too"). Let me know, please, if my Harry is a bit OOC. I don't think so, but he may be. Oh yes, and the phone conversation between Remus and Harry is based on many, many, many conversations between my best friend and myself back before she learned it's OK to not apologise for existing : ) The first 4 chapters will be plot-laying for the entire story, so stick with me, please! I promise it will get more interesting once I introduce all the characters I'm sticking in here.

A/U WARNING: This features a slightly different ending to Order of the Phoenix, although it won't show up until next chapter. Sirius is still dead (presumably; I haven't quite decided if he'll show back up to gum up the works), but instead of just saying "keep in touch" Remus makes an offer to Harry so he can get away from the Dursleys. It's not a massive change, and I'll show the full flashback in chapter 2, but you should be aware now.

DISCLAIMER: I'm wearing a bathrobe older than I am. It's comfortable, yes, but if I owned Harry Potter I'd be able to afford a NEW comfortable bathrobe and hair extensions, don't you think?

ARCHIVING: I'm going to be eternally optimistic and say that maybe somebody out there might want this. If you decide you do, please note that it's going to be pretty long and I'd ask you to post it all (maybe 20 chapters or so? It's going to span more than two years in Harry-world, and I'm laying actual plot before the kissing bits), so if you decide you want it, please make sure you're willing to post it all.

RATING: PG, eventual PG-13 and possibly R (depends on where I decide to go with this) for an eventual slash relationship (Remus and "?", but "?" is not Harry – I won't tell who it is!), potential mild language, and of course abuse of the Dursleys, I love that stuff ; )

I don't think I need anything else – except that this fic is dedicated to Eleonora1 and ImmortalFlick, and that the title is a nod to my best friend's favorite author. I'll stick you in here somewhere if you can tell me what Victor Hugo work was originally supposed to be called "What There is in a Bottle of Ink." Enjoy!

* * *

"BOY!"

Harry Potter sighed and pushed unruly black hair out of his eyes before getting up off his bed. Vernon Dursley in a bad mood wasn't something to deal with if it could be avoided, and so Harry went out into the hall and down the stairs of number four, Privet Drive with as much false eager-to-please attitude as he could. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon lowered his voice to a venomous hiss. "How many times must I _tell_ you, boy? I do _not_ want you _giving out __our telephone number! Especially_ to – to – _people_ – like – like _you_!" He shoved the telephone receiver into Harry's chest.

"You have fifteen minutes, and not a moment more, _do you understand me, boy_?" Harry nodded before tentatively placing the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"

"Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't know calling would get you in trouble, I didn't mean to –" Harry rolled his eyes at the warm and welcome but extremely panicked voice on the other end of the telephone. "Remus, I only have fifteen minutes. Do you think maybe you could either speed up the apology or get it over with, please? Why are you calling?"

Remus blushed, although Harry, of course, couldn't see it. "Sorry. Anyway, Harry, I talked to Dumbledore last week, and Harry – _Harry, I got the papers –_"

Harry Potter was not known for shrieking wildly into the telephone in euphoria and disbelief, so when he did, the Dursleys all jumped in unison (the lights downstairs all shook a little, as did Dudley's floor) and Remus gasped in shock. "Harry? Harry, are you all righ–"

"Am I all right! Remus, are you _joking?_ You actually got it?"

"Do you suppose your relatives would be terribly upset if I picked you up next week?"

"Upset? They'd be thrilled."

"Count on me on Saturday then – oh, that's only two days . . ."

"I'll be ready tomorrow if you want me to be."

Remus laughed. "Hardly. I still have things to pick up and a refrigerator to clean out – and Dumbledore'd pull out right now if he saw the state the living room's in – there's socks all over the place. I was trying to match them all up, but I couldn't find all the mates and so now the sofa looks like a clotheshorse. You don't even want to _begin_ thinking about the dishes I've got – I haven't been home much except to eat, so that's all got to be done – no, Monday would be even better if you thought you could stay until then."

"BOY!"

Harry groaned. "I've got to go, Remus – the Inquisition's after me," he added wryly.

"I'll see you Monday, then, Harry. Try to behave yourself. Or . . . at least . . . don't get caught when you don't behave, or I'd have to punish you first off as soon as you got here and I wouldn't appreciate that."

"BOY!"

"Right. 'Bye, Remus."

"Goodbye, Harry. I'll see you on Monday." In a small flat in London, Remus Lupin grinned as though he'd just lost fifteen years off his age. It would be so good to have someone around again to laugh with.

* * *

"You're going _where?"_

"To London, Uncle Vernon. I'm living with a member of the Order, Remus Lupin – he's one of Sirius' friends . . ." Harry broke off. He really didn't want to think about that right now.

"And how are you getting to London, boy?"

"Err . . . " Harry hadn't thought about that. "Well . . . Remus is picking me up, but I don't know . . . actually . . . "

"If he blows up the fireplace, boy, you won't be going anywhere, do you understand me?" "Yes, Uncle Vernon." But inwardly Harry cheered – he was leaving Privet Drive for good this time.


	2. 2: The Box

**LINER NOTES:**

As you will notice until I update the old chapter, I changed my format (the text was too close together for me, at least, to read). It looks pretty weird as a document, but maybe it will space normally on here this time . . . ?

**A/U WARNING**: As I stated in the last chapter, this features a slightly A/U ending to Order of the Phoenix, which you will see in flashback form in this chapter. I admit to "stealing" some of the text from the book directly preceding this incident. So as to not take credit for anything not mine, I will state that all of the flashback minus Harry and Remus' conversation can be found on the last page of the American hardback of Phoenix, and was used by me only to give some context to the conversation I created.

**DISCLAIMER**: Still in that fluffy blue bathrobe, still got short strawberry blonde hair, and still no professional manicure job. Nope, they're not mine. If they were, Harry and Remus would live happily ever after in a world like this every single day. Oh, yes – and "The Face on the Milk Carton," a movie from which I took an idea for this, doesn't belong to me either. (Well . . . technically I guess it does since I recorded it off TV, but . . . oh, I'm going to shut up now.)

**ARCHIVING**: See Ch. 1 please.

**RATING:** **PG/K+** for this chapter, but this will be going up to **PG-13/T** very quickly.

**REVIEWERS:** A huge thank you to **evilredshyguy** and** Sharivari**! I love reviews, they are my bread and wine : ) As to Karen: I love ya girl! See you in Algebra . . .

**DEDICATION**: The fic is dedicated to **Eleonora1** and **ImmortalFlic**k, but this chapter also has a KUDOS and a "te quiero" to my best friend, Alicia, who unknowingly helped me write the part about Harry's box.

* * *

Monday brought several new changes for Harry. First of all, Aunt Petunia had handed him a new shirt and pants – _new!_ – and told him to get dressed. He didn't have to cook. And for the first time he could ever remember, the Dursleys were being something close to civil. It was unnerving. Harry hoped they wouldn't treat Remus too badly – he knew all too well what Remus' clothes and car (if he even had one) were likely to make the Dursleys think. '_If they would only focus on the __person instead of the picture,_' Harry thought, _'they'd be so much happier.'_ He sat up straight, riveted, on his bed (he'd retired to his room, tired of watching Aunt Petunia grinding her teeth and Uncle Vernon pacing from the living room through the dining room and kitchen and back again), waiting for the sign – 

"BOY!"

Harry sighed and stood up. From the sound of his own hailing, Remus had most likely received a less-than-warm welcome. He was stunned when he finally made it down the stairs and into the living room. Remus was sitting on the sofa with Percy Weasley and a cup of tea, Remus wearing clothes that looked almost as new as the jeans and polo shirt Harry was wearing. Harry wasn't sure what to do with himself and so finally, after gaping for what he was sure was a rude amount of time, he shambled over to the sofa and hugged Remus awkwardly. "Erm –" He needn't have worried. Remus hugged him back warmly, managing somehow to set his tea on a coaster before he did so. "It's good to see you again, Harry. I –" Remus stood up – "I thought so. You grew." He suddenly pouted mischievously. "You do realize in another year you're going to be taller than me." Harry shook his head and grinned. It was good to know that he could at least be taller than Remus and the Creevey brothers, if nobody else. "Erm – oh, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, this is Remus Lupin – he's, well, he's . . . " Harry trailed off. He wasn't entirely sure what he should be calling Remus now.

* * *

_  
_

_"So, Potter . . . give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along . . . ."_

_Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbors would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path._

_"'Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand._

_"Keep in touch, Harry – could I? For just a moment?" Lupin requested of the Dursleys, and then steered Harry around the edge of a column._

"Harry, listen – I know now might not be the best time to bring this up, but I thought maybe –" Lupin suddenly looked awkward. "Harry, after Sirius got out of Azkaban - after wemet up again, that is -he told me he wanted me to take you if anything ever happened to him. I thought if you wanted me to try and get Dumbledore to agree – I could get the papers, these things work differently in the Wizarding world and it wouldn't be that hard – I could become your legal guardian if we could talk Dumbledore into it, what would you think . . . ?"

_Harry's eyes grew wide. "Are you serious? When can I come? Can we go now? Where do you live? How long -" Lupin cut him off with a raised hand.  
_

_"I'd have to talk to Dumbledore first, Harry, and you know how stubborn he is. But your . . . family . . . doesn't look like it's made of the kind of people I'd care to spend my holiday with."_

_"That sounds about right."  
_

_"So all we have to do is convince Dumbledore –"  
_

_"That you'd be better off with me. I'll do my best, Harry, if you want me to try and talk him into it."  
_

_"Definitely!"  
_

_"Keep in touch, then, Harry, and I'll see what I can do."_

_

* * *

_

Harry had indeed 'kept in touch' with the soft-spoken man who was soon to be his legal guardian (according to Percy), so that right now he was rewarded with Percy explaining to the Dursleys the basics of a transfer of guardianship and their rights and responsibilities in the matter. He was thrilled when Aunt Petunia signed her name and then told him to "wait here." Since Harry had nothing else to do until Percy and Remus had finished their tea, he waited – and soon Aunt Petunia returned from a sojourn into the attic with a box about twice the size of a shoe box, perhaps a bit bigger. "This is yours, boy."

Harry lifted off the lid hesitantly, and felt tears prickle in his eyes. The box contained a handful of photographs from his childhood – a baby book – two small spoons – a pair of shoes – two small photograph albums, which upon opening he discovered had belonged to his parents – a pair of wedding rings – and his acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

"She . . . Lily . . . she would have turned in her grave if she'd thought for an instant I didn't keep something for you, boy. I'd no desire to have her haunting me for the rest of my life." Harry looked up, eyes still burning, and nodded in thanks, trying to find his voice. "I . . . thank you, Aunt Petunia."

Aunt Petunia nodded, and seeing that Percy and Remus were finished, nodded once in a prompt. "Well, go along, then."

Harry followed Remus out to the car (his trunk was in the back, and Hedwig plus cage were in the back seat) and slipped in next to Hedwig, buckling his seat belt in excited anticipation. He still held the old box on his lap.


	3. 3: The Conversation

**LINER NOTES:**

I meant to post this in the last chapter, but I forgot. Oh well, here it is:

As of CHAPTER FOUR, I will be borrowing part of a plotline from another writer whose name I don't remember. (It was a story that wasn't particularly realistic to begin with and they abandoned it more than a year ago, so I don't feel bad for borrowing.) Although I don't remember the name, the story was called "A Personal Affair" and is posted somewhere on this site. So I'm hereby alerting everyone to the fact that yes, this is a borrowed idea. Most of the storyline has changed from the original, though - in fact the only thing I'm truly using is the classifieds ads idea.

**A/U WARNING**: This is still in an A/U, though not heavily so. See Ch. 1 or 2 for an explanation of the A/U, because I'm not writing it all out again. I'm sure you get tired of it too.

**DISCLAIMER:** Remus' wacky family belongs to me. Nothing else in this chapter does (except for Remus' tattoo, which was kindly translated by **gary-stu**).

**ARCHIVING**: See Ch. 1 please.

**RATING**: This has gone up to **PG-13/T** for** mentions of homosexuality** (personally I don't feel that merits a rating change, but a lot of other people feel otherwise, so I bent to the masses. This time.) and . . . nothing else, actually. So it's essentially still PG/K+ with a twist. Oh, well.

**DEDICATION**: This fic is dedicated to **Eleonora1** and **ImmortalFlick**, with a nice dash of kudos to my best friend Alicia (She of Harry's box, yes, that's the one. She's my unwittingsounding board for a lot of this stuff, and it without her we would not have the Lupin tribe or the circumstances involving Remus' being in it).

* * *

Harry paid little attention to Remus or Percy, preferring to sift through the box Aunt Petunia had given him. There were far more pictures in the albums than he had ever imagined – some moved, some didn't, and there were many people in the old photographs that he didn't know. One group of them seemed to be related to Remus, who was also in the photograph – four of the women in the picture had a slightly more feminized version of his face, framed by the same sandy blonde hair. A fifth retained the same small build and the habit of tipping her head downward as she smiled, but she was a redhead. It was about the time Harry found this picture that Percy got out of the car, thanking Remus for the ride, and Harry scrambled into the front seat. He didn't mince words. 

"Remus, is this your family?"

Remus glanced at the picture and a grin stole across his face. "Those are my sisters – the ones your parents knew, anyway."

"There are more?"

Remus laughed – a loud, ringing, carefree tone that made the woman in the convertible to their left look over in slight consternation. "Harry, my family is related to the Weasleys through my mum. That should tell you a lot right away."

"Big family?"

Remus laughed again. "Enormous. There are twelve children, and only two of them are boys – well, I suppose I'm too old to be classified as a boy anymore. But Ty's not."

"Ty?"

Remus peered into the rearview mirror for a moment before answering. "Tycho. Tycho Gabriel Lupin. I should feel lucky for getting away with a half-normal name."

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "There's nothing wrong with your name, Remus."

The werewolf shook his head. "You sound as bad as my mother. I suppose it could be worse. We've got a female Gabby too. Mum started recycling names years ago, so a lot of us share our first names as middle names. It drives Dad and Rachael crazy."

Harry blinked. "How many of you did you say there were again?"

"Twelve. But only three still living at home – Raena, Melody and Ty. Get this – the oldest could be the grandmother of the youngest. Rachael was nineteen when I was born, and I was twenty-seven by the time Ty came along. Poor kid. It can't be easy being the baby in our family, that's for sure. Actually, I know it's not – I was the baby for twenty-three years."

"Must make for some pretty wild holiday dinners."

Remus fairly howled with mirth. "Oh, you should _see_ Christmas dinner at my mum's house, Harry – have you ever tried to fit thirty-nine people around one table?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Well, we have - we have to do it every year, actually. It's tight, but we manage – usually. Once in awhile someone shows up with a broken leg or something and then we have to split or there's not enough space. I told Mum I was bringing you for Christmas if you wanted to leave Hogwarts for the holidays, and she was just about in tears. Kelly's youngest just turned six and he's a complete klutz - I've seen the kid walk straight into a doorframe when he was looking right at it - so he ends up with more food on the floor than he gets in his mouth. Nobody likes sitting next to him. We always have to make more space for somebody or other. Poor Remus."

Harry shook his head and blinked. "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"No, I mean – your sister's son is named Remus?"

"Oh – right. It's a family name."

"Did you sell the rights to it?" Harry teased, expecting Remus to laugh with him. He was stunned when Remus groaned and let his head thud down jokingly onto the steering wheel (they were sitting at a stoplight). "_Why _does everyone keep asking me things like that? Does it – bother everyone, that I didn't get the 'need to be prolific' gene?"

Harry blinked hard, startled. "Sorry. I just – well, I mean – I – er –"

"No, I can understand why you'd ask that. I'm the only one over thirty who doesn't have any kids – except you, now, but you're going to be the single black haired boy in a sea of blondes. But I've never even been engaged. It drives Gabby crazy."

"Gabby's the oldest one?"

"Second oldest. Rachael's the oldest. She hasn't got it through her head yet that I'm not interested in any of her girl friends – Gabby, I mean. Rachel doesn't pay much attention in one direction or the other."

"Why not?"

"Because she minds her own business, and she thinks that if I'm happy unmarried I should be allowed to remain happily unmarried. All her friends are in their sixties and seventies anyway."

"No, I mean – never mind."

"Why does it drive Gabby crazy?"

"No. Well . . . I mean . . . why are you not interested? You're only thirty-something, it's not like . . ." Harry trailed off, confused.

Remus laughed again and shook his head. "I suppose you'll have to find out sometime." As they came to another stoplight, he leaned over and rolled up the right leg of his pants about halfway up to his knee. Harry saw a small shape outlined in black, and for one wild moment of insanity he thought Remus had the Dark Mark tattooed on his calf. Then his mind cleared, along with his vision, and he brought the miniscule symbol into focus: an upside-down pink triangle, about half an inch from apex to apex, rimmed in black. A short Latin motto resided beneath it (also upside down), and Harry tilted his head to read it.

"'Fastosus in me.' What's that supposed to mean?"

"Pride in oneself. I nearly drove Madam Pince crazy trying to get a decent Latin dictionary so I could do it – you'd think with almost all the spells in the Wizarding world being in Latin I'd be able to find one, but no, I had to search the entire library one book at a time to find one. That's not even the exact correct translation, but I couldn't find anything else."

"Wait a minute. You did this _yourself_?"

Remus nodded. "I've done a few for others, too. All better than that, thankfully," headded, rolling his pants cuff back down. "I suppose I shouldn't have used myself as a guinea pig. That's why the words are upside down. I forgot my leg was upside down too and – well, there you have it. I did it backward thinking I was putting it on so it would face properly, but now everybody thinks the whole thing is upside down by accident. I really defeated the entire purpose."

Harry snorted. "So – what _was_ the purpose?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "A statement of self, Harry. A rebel call, I suppose you could say. An expression of my individuality.You can't tell me you don't know what a pink triangle is, especially one that's upside down."

Harry racked his brains. "Marauders' symbol?"

Harry was certain if Remus rolled his eyes any harder they'd get stuck, and Remus laughed softly at Harry's confusion. "Merlin, Harry, how over-bloody-innocent are you? A pink triangle is a gay pride symbol."

It was Remus' turn to worry about the state of Harry's eyes, which currently bore a great resemblance to Moody's overlarge magical orb. "You – you're –"

"Cry and get over it, Harry," Remus replied cheerfully. "Then we can start discussing who gets to do the dishes."

"You don't think it's – a big deal?"

Remus just looked at him in slight incredulity. "Is it?"

Harry paused, considered, concluded. "No, I guess not, but – why didn't you tell me, I mean, why didn't you –"

"Was there any real reason for me to tell you before now?"

"No. I guess not."

"I don't consider it a big deal, Harry. I don't even date. It's just a matter of preference. Like preferring chocolate to vanilla."

"Do you compare _everything_ to chocolate, Remus?"

The werewolf grinned as he pulled into a McDonald's so they could stop for lunch. "Just about."


	4. 4: The Unsecret Life of Remus Lupin

LINER NOTES:

I apologise now - part of this chapter is going to be a bit corny (Remus-as-rock-player sprang from Haruka-singing-with-the-

stereo-daydreaming-and-doing-dishes-all-at-one-time and now I can't picture him as anything but an avid guitar player) and

it's my fault (see note in the last parentheses). After this chapter things are going to pick up - a LOT - as ? gets his first letter

from Remus! Also, I can't decide, so I'm asking you all to please "vote" in your review or in an email to me: Should Harry be

allowed to stay in the flat alone on the condition that he doesn't leave the flat for anything (barring a fire or something,

obviously), or should he be forced into being "babysat" when Remus is away?

A/U WARNING: Yes, we're still in the wonderful world of mild A/U. The current A/U elements: 1. Dumbledore has allowed

Harry to leave the Dursleys and live with Remus. 2. Remus is in a rock/dance band (no, I didn't make him a world-famous

rock star, it's just a local gigs-in-bars kind of thing). 3. Remus goes a little bit "little kid" in here (I was trying to show his inner

Maurader coming through, but it doesn't want to write very well). Not annoyingly so, I don't think, but he does turn his

bedroom into a . . . well, you'll see when you get there.

DISCLAIMERS: Again, we all know Harry Potter and his world aren't mine. (But oh, the joy if I could clean the cat litter

with a wave of the wand.) Remus' flat is a miniaturized, more convenient version of my house, and the "music group" he is in,

as well as its other members, is my creation as well.

CURRENCY TRANSLATION RATES: It occurred to me that I listed a "half-pound notebook" in here, so I'm listing the

exchange rates as of this writing (January 2005) for anyone who cares.

U.S. DOLLARS TO THE BRITISH POUND: 1.87 (I round to 2, I'm not good in math)

BRITISH POUNDS TO THE WIZARDING GALLEON: 5 (according to J.K. Rowling)

So there are also about US 10 in one Galleon. I'm using US prices and then just translating them to pounds (Sorry, I'm not

doing THAT much research!), so if the prices are drastically different than what they should be - sorry.

ARCHIVING: See Ch. 1, please.

DEDICATIONS: Eleonora1 and ImmortalFlick ON this site, my best friend Alicia OFF this site. (She doesn't write

fanfiction, are you kidding me? She doesn't even like it that much. She just helps ME write.) Okay, I think that's it! Enjoy!

* * *

"Okay, pick a bed." Harry was torn. Apparently Remus had fudged a bit to Dumbledore – he'd converted a somewhat 

spacious single bedroom into a slightly undersized pair of bedrooms by way of a large, thick quilt hanging down the middle of

the room. So now Harry had the choice of the front "room" with first dibs on the bathroom, or the back "room" with the

window. The easiest way to settle the problem occurred to him suddenly, and so he asked, "Where have you been sleeping?"

Remus shrugged. "On the couch."

"On the _couch?_"

"I didn't want to make a mess in here before you got to see it all nice and clean for thirty seconds."

Harry turned his eyes skyward. (Remushadn't made it any easier on him, either.)Apparently Remus hadn't been kidding

when he'd told Harry he had his work cut out for him – he'd begged Harry to ignore the dozen or so coffee mugs scattered in

and around the kitchen sink, the huge piles of sheet music and composer's sheets sitting on the couch and coffee table, and a

large fruit juice stain on the carpet near the bedroom. Harry would never have pictured Remus as a clutterbug, but the

evidence was right in front of his eyes – he didn't know anybody else who kept nearly twenty coffee mugs with only one

person in the house. There were only three rooms in the flat – living room, kitchen, and bedroom (they also had a

private bathroom, which Remus seemed to consider the epitome of luxury.) and all three were a bit odd. Remus had evidently

blended the elements of the Wizarding and muggle worlds until he had all the implements he considered most convenient –

there was a refrigerator, for example, but the stove only worked by matches or magic.

Harry ran over all these things in his mind as he considered where he wanted to sleep, still unsure as to how Remus'

admission in the car was going to affect everything. '_It wouldn't affect anything at all in a perfect world_,' Harry thought,

'_but unfortunately the world's really not fair, especially to me these days, it seems_.'

Remus finally broke into Harry's tumbled thoughts. "Fine. If you won't decide, then I'll just take the front one and you can

have the window."

Harry shook his head. "Huh?"

Remus didn't even acknowledge that Harry had spoken, merely depositing the boy's trunk in front of the bed near the

window, and then wandering out to the kitchen, Harry traipsing hurriedly behind him.

"-to drink?"

Harry shook again – he really needed to stop getting lost in his thoughts. "Sorry?"

Remus patiently repeated himself. "I asked if you wanted anything to drink," he replied, opening the refrigerator and adding,

"there's water, milk, apple cider, coffee, tea – hot and iced – and hot chocolate. Oh, and I've got some orange juice left in

here if you want it."

"Er – whatever you're having is fine."

Remus set a small pan on the stove, lit it with his wand, and started adding things like cocoa and sugar and milk. When it was

all melted and stirred and simply waiting to heat, he turned and sat down at the table.

"Something you should know right now is that I'm not exactly a rules-friendly person, Harry – I think having too many rules

undermines the purpose of having them. Sooner or later they start to get really ridiculous, and people start disregarding them.

But Dumbledore said you could only stay here if I wasn't doing stupid things like letting you stay out until one in the morning

or allowing you to go places where you could get into trouble, so I thought we'd sit down together and talk about rules.

You're not five years old. You should be allowed to help set your own boundaries, within reason."

"That sounds fair."

"Excellent." Remus paused long enough to pour hot chocolate and add ice cream to his own mug before pulling out a simple

half-pound muggle notebook and two ballpoint pens, one of which he clicked open and immediately began drawing doodles

on the edges of the first page of the notebook. The other he passed to Harry with his free hand.

"Right. So . . . rules. I'm telling you right now you're not staying out past eleven unless I'm with you, because if I don't tell

you that I'm going to be hideless. Molly'll just skin it right off."

Harry laughed and then answered. "So long as I'm not always doing all the housework or something I'm fine."

"Well, there's only two of us, so I don't know how to assign housework, to be honest. When I was a kid there were so many

of us – I was the ninth one – that we just drew lots. But that doesn't exactly work when there are only two people involved. I

don't suppose Dumbledore would consider it irresponsible to suspend judgment on that until we have a few different

opinions. I, personally, go crazy doing the same things day after day after day. That's why I alternate the days I do things. But

now I'm babbling. You should stop me when I do that, Harry," Remus teased.

Harry blushed. "I can't help it if I was strictly trained not to interrupt."

"Rules were made to be broken. But then, you already know that."

Harry turned his head sideways to read the schedule Remus was outlining in the notebook. "Friday and Saturday out gig.

What's that supposed to mean?"

Remus didn't even pause in his writing as he answered. "Dumbledore – and most of the rest of the Order – pointed out that if

I didn't have at least a semi-steady paying job I wouldn't be able to support you, which is now one of my basic

responsibilities, so I called up this girl I used to be in a local music group with – her name's Raven – to see if they happened

to be looking for a guitarist again. And they were, good luck on my side at last, so I'm usually on gigs now on Friday and

Saturday nights. That's what all the music out there is for. I used to be a lyricist for the group. I did a lot of things. We all did.

There were only five of us and we did a lot of things, in fact at one time we were that close to becoming really big and putting

out an album, but then our pianist left and the whole deal fell apart."

"That doesn't sound like very good luck to me."

"Well, it was more than ten years ago. They've got a new one now and she's fantastic. But anyway, on Fridays and

Saturdays I'm usually not home, so you'll either have to come with me or someone will have to come over – or you can go

somewhere, it's your choice. But most of the time I can take you with me, if you want."

"That'd be awesome!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't know you played guitar."

"Since I was thirteen," Remus answered him, grinning. "You'll be surprised, Harry, when you realize that I _do_ know how to

have fun that doesn't involve books."

* * *

Harry knocked on the bedroom door nervously. He'd heard Remus let out a loud whoop several minutes before, and since 

then there'd been nothing but silence. A month in the flat with Remus – it was now well into the first week of July – had taught

him that mysterious noises followed by silence, plus a lack of knowledge of Remus' plans, had a tendency to add up to

trouble.

"It's open!"

Harry pushed the door open uncertainly, only to be creamed in the face with a large ball of leaves. He spluttered. "Remus!"

Remus laughed from a crosslegged position on the floor. "It's too hot out there."

"So you turned our room into a giant leaf pile in October?"

"Absolutely! It's my bed and not yours anyway, Harry. I left yours completely intact. See?" Remus pointed around the quilt

(or rather, what had been a quilt and was now another giant leaf pile) toward Harry's bed and trunk, the only non-leaf-ified

pieces of furniture in the room.

Harry plopped down onto what had been Remus' bed with a loud crunching noise. "I still don't get why we didn't just go to

the community swimming pool or something."

"Because this is more fun."

"Right. What did you do, Transfigure everything?"

"Yup." Remus made some kind of noise between a giggle and a snigger – sniggering sounded like too mean a word for the

sound he made, but giggling sounded immature and schoolgirly – and pushed Harry back into the leaf-pile bed. "Do you

know the best part about a Transfigured leaf pile is, Harry?" Harry shook his head hesitantly. "No slugs. Or other nasty insect

things that insist upon getting up your pant legs and in your hair and all kinds of other not-so-wonderful places."

* * *

"Remus?" 

"Mmm?"

"When did you turn into such a kid?"

"I've always been like this, Harry," Remus replied, sitting up and picking several bits of maple foliage out of his hair and going

back to Always-Slightly-Serious Lupin. "I just know when it's appropriate to act like this and when it's not. And right now

there's no reason for it to be inappropriate, so here I am, playing around in a giant leaf pile that used to be my bed. And my

dresser and nightstand, incidentally, but I don't think I'll have such a hard time sorting those out."

Harry sat up, breathless from a leaf fight and pushing each other around and trying to trip Remus into the leaves instead of the

other way around and all kinds of other things he'd never done before (having had nobody to do them with), and pushed his

bangs out of his eyes. "We should do this again sometime. I didn't know you were so good in Transfiguration."

"Third in the class. But anyway – Harry, I wanted to ask you something."

"Boy, you sure know how to change topics at the speed of light."

"It's a werewolf thing. But – Harry, what would you think if I said I wanted to start dating again?"

Harry stared in disbelief. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're living with me."

"So?"

"Should I take that as a 'no, I don't mind,' then?"

"I guess so. But what made you – I mean – well – you said –"

Remus rolled his eyes affectionately. "Terribly articulate, aren't you? But honestly, since I've had you here I've been spending

more time with people fairly close to your age, not to mention you, and I've realized – I'm really not that old."

Harry gaped. "_Merlin_, Remus, you're only thirty-six!"

Remus sighed. "It feels so much older than it sounds sometimes. But I realized I don't really have to shut down my entire life

because my hair's a bit gray or I can't turn cartwheels for six hours straight anymore. So I'm asking you if you'd mind."

Harry stared at him calculatingly. There was a look on Remus' face that belied whatever came out of his mouth, and Harry

very seriously suspected he was already up to something – so he said so. "Remus, what are you up to?"

"Hmn?" Remus looked startled.

"I mean – you're already on for somebody, or something, aren't you?"

Harry's former professor blushed. "I don't know how you figure these things out."

Harry waved the implied question aside. "Okay, so who is it?"

Remus' face turned even redder. "Well, I don't know him, actually . . ."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The werewolf burrowed down beneath the leaves with a muffled "Just a minute" and reappeared several moments later,

shaking leaves out of his hair (again) with a newspaper in his hand. "Well, I was reading this the other day and –"

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you have a newspaper under your bed?"

Shrug. "I do those kinds of things."

"Right. But you were saying –"

"Right. I was reading these the other night and this one here – he just sounds interesting."

"The classified ads?"

Remus nodded and pointed to a small ad near the bottom of the page. Harry read it. Interesting for Remus, maybe.

Somebody who read a lot and enjoyed mostly quiet pastimes was not Harry's idea of a good mate, but then he wasn't

Remus. And the guy sounded all right, beyond that. "Go for it."

* * *

That night Remus sat down and wrote a letter. 


	5. The Letter: An Interlude

LINER NOTES:

RANDOM: Although this is listed as a chapter, it's more an interlude in response to an email a rabid reader (but not

reviewer . . . sniffle sniffle) sent me, demanding to know more. Standard LINER NOTES apply here, but I'm not typing them

all out for something this short.

* * *

The man reclined on a long cream sofa near the fireplace and reread the letter he'd received at dinner. It was a reply to that

fool ad he'd placed in a moment of extreme weakness (and then cussed himself for); and now he was cussing himself again

for actually finding the respondent interesting. The name of the letter writer was Rémy, or at least that was what his friends (he

said "almost everybody") called him. Rémy enjoyed books and music and the theater and seemed to be one of those overly

kind, generally naïve souls who "meant well." He sounded intelligent, however, and that mattered to the man on the sofa. He

wouldn't have been interested if this 'Rémy' hadn't sounded intelligent. He couldn't stand ignorance. Now he was

deliberating – did he write back to Rémy, or not? His instincts screamed not to – for all he knew it was some kind of trap set

by the other side and he'd be killed if he responded – but some smaller, nearly forgotten part of him urged him to take the

chance. It might not come again, this part argued. Finally he came to a conclusion. Sitting down at a table with quill and ink,

he began to write.

* * *

"Harry – Harry! Harry, wake up!" Harry let out an "Uhnn" and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. "Harry – Harry, _he _

_wrote back_ –"

This was enough to pique Harry's interest. "Huh?"

"The man from the newspaper!"

"What about him?"

"He wrote!"

"I thought you had to write him first."

"I did, Harry, day before yesterday. Now do you want to get up and come get some orange juice and read what he said, or

do you want to lay here for the rest of the morning?"

Remus obviously meant the question to be rhetorical, so Harry reached halfheartedly for his dressing gown, cursing under his

breath when he saw the face of the alarm clock (it read 6:52 – on a summer Saturday morning, no less).

It took Harry almost half an hour to get out to the kitchen, even though he'd forgone his normal morning shower – he had the

feeling Remus would burst if he had to wait five minutes more to share his news. Harry had barely poured himself a glass of

pumpkin juice before Remus thrust the letter excitedly in his face.

"Here!"

Harry took the paper cautiously and examined it. It was nothing but plain cream paper, though curiously soft and velvety. It

was covered in a slightly sharp, square, linear handwriting. Having determined this, Harry read.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dear Rémy,

I must congratulate you – I hadn't intended to answer any responses I received. I placed that ad in a moment of weakness,

and I've been cursing at myself right up till now – I decided to stop when I realized somebody interesting had answered me. I

never expected an answer from somebody with a child or even a teenager. In answer to your question, no, I don't mind

children so long as they're not very small – my sister's five-year-old is sufficient to drive me to insanity within ten minutes.

I truly had to laugh when you said that 'almost everyone just calls' you Rémy. I also use a different name with my friends – my

first name is just an annoying reminder of relatives I've spent a lifetime running away from. Feel free to call me Natasha – a

strange name for a man, I know, but apparently it has some kind of ethnic meaning in some cultural group my mother was part

of, and I far prefer it to the alternative.

I'd be glad to hear from you again. Having intelligent conversation, even one with day long pauses in it, certainly is an

improvement over talking to the walls.

Yours ever,

Nat

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry sat looking at this strange missive with mixed feelings. The man's manner was slightly abrupt, but there was nothing

wrong with that. Harry felt some sort of kinship with the absent Natasha already – the mere fact that he preferred his middle

name to his first one was a big indicator for Harry. He knew he hated being called "my boy," even by Albus Dumbledore,

because of the connotations the word "boy" had taken on at the Dursleys'. No, there was some other reason for him to feel

odd about that letter – if only he could figure out what it was.


	6. 5: The Crow

LINER NOTES:

YAY! Lots of reviews . . . from . . . they all seem to be from one person. Oh well, that's good stuff! Let's all hear it for

Eleonora1, one of the coolest writers on fanfiction .net and one of the people to whom this story is dedicated, for her reviews

of three consecutive chapters! LOL, okay, I'll get on with the Liner Notes . . .

A/U WARNING: We're still in the A/U of Harry living with Remus and Remus actually being able to afford a flat and a car

(albeit a terribly old and Weasleyish car). We're not leaving it, people. Get used to the idea.

DISCLAIMER: Iliad, Neverwinter, and the unnamed crow (who is in fact a raven named Poe) all belong to me. Now . . .

takes a deep breath These things do not: The Harry Potter Universe (J.K. Rowling), velour paper for letters (Stephen King,

'Salem's Lot), sticky bathroom door (my sister's first apartment), The Iliad, The Odyssey (these belong to Homer . . . but

you probably already knew that), the name Neverwinter (stole it from a video game called Neverwinter Nights), andRemus'

nightstand (borrowed from Disney and Bruckheimer Films: it is from Pirates of the Caribbean).

ARCHIVING: See Ch. 1 please.

RATING: This is and will remain in a PG-13 category for awhile – at least until a few chapters after Remus and Natasha meet

(yes, that is on the horizon!).

RANDOM NOTES: I feel bad – most of this chapter is fluff and that is specifically directed at Yulara, who wanted to read

some of Remus' letters! (You'll get to read one he wrote in the next chapter, for those who care.)

REVIEWERS:

**DARKMEW13**: This chapter is remarkably low on humor factor (it's mostly fluff . . . ugh, how did I write something like

this?), but you can bet your bottom dollar that the reveal in three chapters is going to bring lots of laughs!

**Yulara**: My Remus is a serious yet fun-loving guy who just has to cut loose some of the time and let go (hence his kidlike

behavior a chapter and a half ago), but he is also a bachelor and so I am exaggerating a stereotype for laughs (I think most

bachelors out there will understand if I give Remus a sink full of dirty coffee mugs and an unmade bed and then blame it on his

singleness. If I was his significant other, he'd be as good as a bachelor because he is in fact based off me.)

**Eleonora1**: Phew! Okay, let's see what I can do. I was aiming for unbelievable with Remus' family – remember, we know

NOTHING about him from the books except a bit of his school life. Most of the kids are a bit spread apart, but remember

that there were seven kids between Rachael and Remus. The biggest age gap with no kids in it is the one between Remus and

Raena, which is 23 years (Raena is 13. You'll find out in another chapter why Remus' younger siblings don't seem to be at

Hogwarts and why there are such huge age differences). And is it Severus? No! It's Natasha. (And no, Natasha is not an

OC. You'll just have to wait and see who he is, just like anyone else. I'd torture you and say it's Albus or Percy, but you can

find their middle names in the books.)

DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to Eleonora1, ImmortalFlick, and my best friend Alicia, but this chapter is a slight

detour that wasn't really needed (I really ought to post it separately, but I won't) and it is dedicated to Yulara.

Sorry for the superlong notes! On to the story!

* * *

Remus carefully folded the letter along the creases, closing his eyes and reveling in the feel of deliberately creased velour 

paper. He had no idea whether Natasha was rich or poor, had no inkling as to why he would use such elegant and expensive

paper for simple almost-daily notes, but he loved the idea. He sat on the edge of his bed, his bedside lamp carefully turned so

as to not disturb Harry on the other side of the quilt, and as he pulled his legs up onto the coverlet he unfolded the paper

again.

It was his third letter from Natasha, and the two had already progressed beyond professions and formalities. Every letter he

received asked after Harry and almost always wanted to know what was for dinner. Each word hinted at a wry sense of

humor hiding behind a nearly impenetrable mask. Remus felt sixteen years old again, sixteen and getting his first kiss or first

love letter or the first time he'd sneaked out to join someone in a walk next to the lake at Hogwarts. It was a giddy feeling, a

wish to memorize every curl of the paper and each one of the penstrokes in the characters that danced across the paper to

the tune of language. The feeling came with some small downsides – two nights ago Harry had slammed the bathroom door

rather too hard (it had to be slammed or it stuck and wouldn't close) and Remus, calm, unshakeable, always-steady Remus,

had jumped and gasped at the sudden intrusion into his quiet dishwashing time, and dropped a soapy glass on the floor, where

it shattered.

But beyond the slightly heightened dreaminess and the general feeling that there wasn't another shoe to drop – there simply

couldn't be – Remus' life went on as usual. True, he'd received some rather odd looks at the last Order meeting (he rather

suspected these were directed, however, to the fact that his hair was brushed and his clothing looked like he'd actually been

paying attention when he put it on) and Harry was constantly trying to get him out of the house for some reason ("Let's go to

a movie, roller skating, bowling . . . "), but overall nothing had changed.

Or so he tried to tell himself. The truth was that a thousand little tiny things had changed since he'd received that first letter.

He'd begun paying attention to what he was wearing instead of simply throwing on anything that matched and didn't have too

many holes. He'd stopped jokingly griping over chores, which had finally been sorted out. He was willingly – almost

automatically – washing his cups in the sink instead of waiting for them to pile up. He'd started going to bed at a decent hour

instead of staying up until all hours. He no longer toyed with his food before he ate it (and he'd started putting on weight so

that he looked more like a human being than a scarecrow). And he'd lived every two days with a feeling of excitement – two

days was the amount of time it took between sending a letter and receiving a reply. He'd already measured it. Which was

why he was now sitting, somewhat agitated, on his bed. Then he heard it. The tapping of claws at the window.

Remus jumped up – he scattered the three old letters as he did so – hurried through the quilt, and opened the window. A

glossy black crow – with one white feather at the tip of her right wing in a manner that suggested some kind of "defect" in her

genes – stepped through the open portal and let out a sort of croon of contentment. Remus held out his hand, and she climbed

up onto it – he didn't know why he'd labeled it already as a she – and rode demurely back to the bed. Remus sat down and

then carefully untied the letter tied to her leg. She fluttered her wings, and Remus gave her the last bite of the steak sandwich

he had sitting on his nightstand. She crooned again in thanks, and flew to the perch normally inhabited by Remus' owl, Iliad.

(Harry had expressed amazement at the fact that Remus owned an owl, but it wasn't too hard to understand – his mother's

owl, Odyssey, had had two owlets and Remus had adopted one of them, continuing the Homer-named tradition that Gabby

had started.) Remus eagerly unrolled the paper, which magically straightened itself and then folded into three sections. He

unfolded this new letter carefully over top of the three he'd picked back up off the floor, and read.

-

Dear Rémy,

It was good to hear from you on Tuesday – today, actually, although it will not be Tuesday by the time you receive this.

Setting lesson plans for almost a thousand students is a real headache, and reading your letter – and now responding to it – is

certainly a welcome break.

You asked me what I thought of "rock" music. I don't usually listen to it, but certain groups or songs can be quite good if I

happen to be in a noisy mood. I usually prefer opera (again, a rarity, though more a more frequent rarity than a wish to listen

to Elvis Presley or some such Muggle performer) or classical music, but quite frequently I listen to nothing at all. I find that

music tends to break my concentration – not a good thing when correcting papers or some such unpleasant but unavoidable

task. I try to avoid bars and clubs and such places, although I frequented them when I was a good deal younger and

admittedly stupider than I am now. I can understand, though, why some people would enjoy them. I rather fancy my habit of

sitting in complete silence and isolation for six hours at a time doing nothing but writing would be off-putting to some.

I do play the piano, how did you know? Or perhaps I could answer that for myself – the fact that I was able to follow you

quite easily when you were discussing writing keyboard music was most likely what gave me away. My parents insisted that a

"well-bred boy" should always know how to play the piano, and I took lessons for ten years. Some time after I turned twenty

it became a bit of a hobby, and I do still play occasionally if only to keep in practice.

How is Harry? You mentioned in your last letter that he was being quite restless. Being almost sixteen does that, I think. It

would certainly explain why my after-lunch class and before-dinner class are always the most annoying. There can't possibly

be anything worse than trying to correct papers with handwriting so atrocious it can't be read – unless, perhaps, it would be

trying to correct those papers while thirty students squirm and whistle and occasionally even throw things at each other, and

trying to keep order.

I have to get back to these lesson plans before I decide I'm simply not going to finish them today. I hope to hear from you

again soon –

Natasha

P.S. This is my crow, Neverwinter. Your owl seemed a bit beat out by the time he got here, so I thought perhaps he'd better

stay for a day or two until he's rested up.

-

Remus folded this new letter and placed it on top of the others, smiling at the mental image of his (mostly, he amended)

unknown correspondent in a roomful of flying paper airplanes. He'd already discerned that Natasha was a teacher, though

what he taught and where Remus had no idea – he thought it might be Beauxbatons – he was mostly certain that Natasha was

a French name. It probably was Beauxbatons, actually – Remus could have paid his entire year's rent on the flat with a single

paycheck from Beauxbatons. That would explain the crow (crows were, after all, far more expensive to keep than owls and

Remus was fairly sure that Natasha had mentioned having two of the great black birds at one point) and the expensive paper.

Strange, he thought, that he had made so many judgments about this man without ever meeting him. In his second letter

Natasha had said that he didn't want a picture of Remus – he would rather make his decisions about an unknown based upon

character, rather than be swayed by a pretty face. This idea had thrilled Remus to no end – it was a maxim which he often

tried to put into practice, but his own looks – nice, but with an air as though he'd been a doll thrown on a thrift-shop shelf –

had put so many people off that he'd given up trying to be accepted by that rule. It was that belief, however, that made him

able to stand people like Mundungus Fletcher, who otherwise would certainly have ranked low on Remus' "people-to-know"

list. He'd tried to form a mental picture of Natasha based on what he knew, but it was a hard and uphill battle – he thought

that Natasha must have dark hair and very large eyes, and long, slender hands (this he had just garnered from the fact that his

writing partner played piano). He was probably quite thin, slightly built like Remus himself – but at that point Remus' mental

image collapsed. He'd never been able to get much farther than that and when he did it never seemed to fit. Remus slipped

the letters into the false bottom in his nightstand drawer, pulled the lamp cord, and rolled over, brooding, staring into the

darkness.


	7. 6: The Transformation

**LINER NOTES:**

Well, we have a correct answer to the challenge I posted in Chapter One (which Victor Hugo story was originally called

"What There is in a Bottle of Ink"?), so my best friend, Alicia, the Victor Hugo-loving nut (LOL . . . sorry "sissie," you know I

love ya!), will have a small part in the reveal chapter. It's not too late to enter - I'll accept guesses all the way up to the posting

of the next-to-last chapter, and Merlin knows when THAT will be! (This is my entertainment - typing this and reading the

wonderful reviews you people write me!)

**A/U WARNING:** We're not leaving the A/U I've created (Harry is living with Remus: See Ch. 1 and 2 if you're clueless), so

I'm not posting this warning again unless I further A/U it . . .

**DISCLAIMER:** That's right - I'm J.K. Rowling, hiding behind wonderful Internet anonymity, doing what I'd do with these

characters if I didn't have to pander to the general public. ABSOLUTELY. Harry would get to live away from the Dursleys

and Remus would be gay (and have a car, on top of that) and one of the male characters would have the middle name

Natasha. GET REAL. (sorry . . . I'm running out of ideas for funny disclaimers . . . )

**ARCHIVING:** See ch. 1.

**RATING:** PG-13 for mild language, homosexuality, mild interspecies violence (READ: Werewolf bite scars and potential

human-hexing-werewolf violence) and eventually I'm going to stick Remus in a floral blouse (just checking to see if you were

paying attention, I'm not really )

**DISTURBING CONTENT WARNING**: There is a SlightlySelfInjuring!Remus in here - Alicia (yes, the best friend)

pointed out to me that in spite of the fact that Remus is cutting himself for a good reason, some people might find it off-putting,  
so here is your warning: Remus cuts his hand deliberately in this chapter to set up a "mark" for Harry's protection. Unless

Remus sets up another mark for someone else, this will be the only case of deliberateself-injury in the story.

**REVIEWS!:**

Yulara: I'm glad you like Nate's crow! I have no idea if her genetic abnormality (the single white feather) is actually possible,

but she's a magical breed of crow, so I'm hiding behind that excuse I've got a rather powerful songfic in the works right

now, if you stay a faithful reviewer you might just get the whole thing dedicated to you . . . grin Yes, I WAS sorted into

Slytherin on account of being sneaky and manipulative, how did you know?

Eleonora1: Well, I answered your review in an email (have I mentioned I love reviews?), but I am going to say it again: You

read the ENTIRE LEXICON over my li'l scribblings? is deeply honored And you never know, for all I've said, I may just

have resurrected Sirius from behind the Veil and it's he that Remus is writing to (actually, I always come up with "Juno" as

dear Siri's middle name, so it isn't he. . . but you never know . . . I'm evil, it could be Peter too)! Honestly, for all you all

know it's Davey Gudgeon (remember, the kid in PoA that Remus says nearly lost an eye to the evil tree?) or someone

similar . . . muahaha! I'm not telling! NOT TELLING! Well . . . actually . . . Eleonora KNOWS who it is, but she's going to

be nice to me and not spoil the surprise . . . right? RIGHT? Uh . . . Eleonora? . . . .

Enjoy! (NOTE: This was originally supposed to be a single chapter with the next one to be posted, but it's already longer than

my normal chapters and it would have created a positively insane mega-chapter about 20 pages long, so I split it in a

convenient place - sorry if it seems abrupt.)

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Dear Nate,

It's two o'clock in the morning and I couldn't sleep, so here I am trying to make letters go in a somewhat straight line. It's not

going too well – the last parchment I ruined by letting my mind wander and by the time I realized I was still writing I'd filled

half a sheet with random lines from Hamlet.

How are you doing? I suppose I should have asked that straight off, but I seem to have been doing that a lot lately – mixing

questions and so on. It would help if I could get to sleep at a decent hour. Not too much going on here since your last letter.

Harry's birthday is in a week and I'm trying to plan something, Raven's furious because I told her I can't play that night

(apparently we had a gig scheduled already . . . it would be nice if she'd be bothered to tell me these things), and Harry's

irritated with me because I told him I was playing a big one. I really don't want him to know we're going anywhere until we're

there – he's never had a decent birthday in his life, poor kid. I feel bad for lying to him – it's something I really don't make a

habit of – but I don't know how else to keep him from having any idea. Suggestions?

Neverwinter seems to be a much better post bird than Iliad. I sent a letter to my mum a week and a half ago and he hasn't

returned. Mum swore over the telephone (I hope you know what those are) that he stayed a night and left, which should have

put him home two days ago, but I haven't seen so much as a feather. Leave it to Iliad. Last time I got a call from a bird

sanctuary that caught him two hundred miles from here, and then the volunteer who found him told me off for trying to teach

an owl to act like a carrier pigeon.

I'm sitting here listening to something I think you'd like on the CD player we just got (I know you know what that is) – it's a

musical called "Jekyll and Hyde," about a man who – well, it was a book, too, so I won't tell you too much in case you'd

care to read it. I rather fancy it's something you'd enjoy – it's all about the latent power of evil and how it works and how

good ideas can go very terribly wrong if not properly executed. I really feel bad for wizards who think that they can't enjoy

Muggle works just because – well, because they were written by Muggles. It's like saying Dracula is terrible just because it

perpetuates myths about vampires that aren't true and thattherefore Muggles know absolutely nothing about what they're

saying.

I just realized I'm making very little sense, talking about things like myths that aren't true – quite redundant, really. I really

ought to have answered this yesterday when I got it, but on the other hand it's rather comforting to have something to do

when you're too tired to go to sleep – an odd state, to be sure. I suppose it's really not too much of a loss, really – I'd be

getting up in three hours anyway.

I'm going to stop rambling now in the hope that I haven't completely annoyed you to death, and that possibly you'll find a

single sentence in this unbelievable drivel that's worth answering.

Best,

Rémy

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Remus rolled up the letter and whistled softly to Neverwinter, who was roosting on Iliad's still-deserted perch – he and Harry

had discovered, quite by accident, just how well-trained the odd-feathered crow really was. He had been confirmed in his

belief that Nate was either extraordinarily patient, extraordinarily bored, or a combination of both – the bird could talk

(although she really couldn't hold an intelligent conversation particularly well), she responded to basic commands (like

whistles and snapping fingers), and he'd once heard her recite a very small portion of Poe's "The Raven," though that really

could be quite by accident as well – all she'd actually said was "quoth the raven." Remus had been quite tempted after that to

introduce her to his superior and give her a slightly mean surprise – he and Raven had been on the outs just lately because of

his announcement that he wouldn't be able to play on the thirty first, and she'd been rather nasty to him about it.

Responding to his whistle, Neverwinter soared into the front room with another accomplishment Iliad had never mastered –

not knocking any lampshades or breakables onto the floor. He and Nate had been using the crow instead of Iliad, the absent

bird being quite obviously not in a position to deliver letters. Remus had spent three days in an anxious state, worried that

Nate would think he'd stopped writing. Harry volunteered Hedwig, but she was on the outs with Remus too – apparently she

didn't care much for his driving, or something, as she'd nipped at him the day he'd brought Harry to London, and she'd

refused to so much as look at him ever since. He'd tried to borrow her as Harry had suggested, and she had flown off to

Merlin knew where. Harry was frantic, at least until Mrs. Weasley managed to call him from the telephone box in Ottery St.

Catchpole. It seemed Hedwig had taken refuge with the Weasleys, and was quite haughtily refusing to go home. (Remus

suspected it might have something to do with Moony, who would be coming out to 'play' tonight.) And then Nate had sent a

note by Neverwinter, inquiring as to whether or not he was all right because he'd never taken so long to answer a letter, and

suddenly they'd had a post bird again.

Remus sighed and absentmindedly stared up at where the moon had been a few hours ago (it had set already), rubbing the

scar on his neck idly. That was another worry of Remus': what would happen to Harry tonight? He was setting up a mark for

the boy, certainly – it wasn't as though Moony wouldn't recognize him; but surely it couldn't be safe, or healthy, for Harry to

remain over the full moon. Harry, unfortunately, had set up everything with Dumbledore – in the flat Harry was, and in the flat

Harry would stay. In spite of the Wolfsbane potion and the sign he was arranging, Remus couldn't help but worry. Well, it

wasn't as though he was going to be running rabid, at least, he thought . . .

* * *

Remus slit his finger, wincing, and managed to extract two drops of blood onto the spoon before his finger closed of its own 

accord (being a werewolf could have its advantages, he admitted). In a moment he heard the water in the shower turn off, and

he hurried to stir syrup into Harry's chocolate (1) before the boy came into the kitchen – it was one of Remus' small

idiosyncrasies that Harry should have his breakfast waiting for him, drink included, but he had a second reason for not

wanting Harry to catch him at it today – there was no reason to upset Harry when all Remus was doing was protecting him,

and finding Remus stirring blood into his chocolate would definitely upset the already turbulent teen. Remus had read

extensively on the subject of Dark creature protection when he was younger, and was well aware that a werewolf could

choose to mark another being by blood so that the other being couldn't be harmed by a werewolf. He'd dug up some of his

old books in the past week, and immersed himself in them until he'd found his answer. (It was a good thing he'd bothered to

check, too, he thought to himself – as he'd remembered it, Harry would have had to do the injuring part and take the blood

directly from the cut, and he knew the boy'd never have agreed to that, inconsequential as the wound might be.)

Harry trailed into the kitchen, still yawning, and shot a death glare and a resentful "thanks" at Remus as he took his chocolate

(Harry still hadn't forgiven Remus for the gig he was supposed to be playing on the thirty-first). Remus pulled pancakes out of

the oven, where he'd been keeping them warm (an odd trick, to be sure, but he'd learnt it from his mother), and put a plateful

on the table.

"Help yourself."

Harry stared suspiciously at the stack of pancakes on the plate – they were chocolate chip pancakes, and he was sure Remus

was kissing up until he realized Remus had just poured chocolate syrup on his own breakfast – then he was too stunned to

think of anything else..

"Didn't your mum ever tell you that's terribly unhealthy?"

"Mmm-mmm?" Remus looked up, surprised at Harry's initiation of a conversation (he'd been getting the silent treatment for

four days), and did his best to swallow hastily. "What did you say?"

"I asked if your mum ever told you how unhealthy that is."

Remus reached for his own chocolate before answering. "I used to have a positively enormous glass of milk whenever I had

chocolate chip pancakes. Mum didn't really care that I'd be on a sugar high for the rest of the day so long as I was drinking

my week's worth of dairy while she could sneak it into me. I really never liked milk when I was younger."

"Oh." The table lapsed back into silence.

* * *

It was close to eight o'clock that night when Remus looked outside and closed the curtains. Harry was curled up on the 

couch, rereading Quidditch Through the Ages for the thousandth time.

"Harry." No response. Remus raised his voice slightly. "Harry." Still no answer, not so much as an indication that Harry had

even heard him. "Harry Potter, I'm talking to you!" Remus despised reprimanding anyone, but if Harry wanted to play the

cold shoulder games over something this important, then it would be the last time he'd stay here for a full moon.

"Oh?" Politely incredulous and subtly insulting to Remus' authority.

"Harry, go to your – our – room. And stay there tonight, okay? No leaving. Not for anything."

"And if I have to go to the bathroom?"

"Hold it."

"How considerate." Harry's barbs were getting more and more annoying, and finally Remus snapped. He knew exactly why

Harry was so furious with him, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Look, Harry, I'm trying to take care of you here. I have to keep us both in food and bills and soon we're going to have to

get your schoolbooks, and N.E.W.T. books are expensive –"

"I've always bought my own before."

"I'm very glad for you. But Dumbledore and Molly both are going to kill me if I don't at least get you new clothes for school,

and on the money we've got right now I can't afford to do that without something good coming in –"

"I thought you said Dumbledore hired you back."

"I said I applied, Harry. I haven't heard from him yet. And even if I had, spending money we don't yet have is an excellent

way to dig ourselves into a very deep debt hole. I thought I told you to go to bed."

"It's only eight o'clock."

"Harry, stop being so damned petulant –" Harry looked up, shocked, having never heard Remus curse before – "I don't care

how late you stay up as long as you sleep. But I want you out of the living room, now. It's almost moonrise."

Harry finally complied. That was to say, he let out a hefty sigh to show just how displeased he was, heaved himself from the

sofa, slid his book noisily back onto the bookshelf, and headed for the bedroom door. When he was almost there he paused.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"What do I do if you try to get in?" For the first time since informing Remus that he would be staying tonight, Harry sounded

slightly nervous.

"That depends on whether or not I sound like some kind of bloodthirsty maniac. If it sounds like a dog scratching to get in and

go to bed, you're fine."

"And if you sound like a bloodthirsty maniac?"

"You have my express permission to hex me unconscious and I'll explain to Amelia Bones later why you were doing magicif I

have to."

Harry smiled a very little bit, as though he didn't really believe what he'd been told. "You'd ground me if I hexed you."

"Not if it was in self-defense.'

Harry just shook his head and slipped through the door. "Good night, Remus."

Remus and Harry both got through the full moon with no problems out of the ordinary – Harry'devenlet Moony into the

bedroomto sleep, and so was woken by an anxiously furious Remus the next morning who wanted to know _how _Harry could

be so bloody irresponsible. It did do one good thing for Remus, though: Harry was speaking to him again.

* * *

NOTES: 

(1) A seemingly common European term for hot chocolate. (And yes, I'm using "European" indiscriminately, because I have

seen it in translated versions of French and German works as well as British ones. You can find the term in Goblet of Fire

when everyone goes to the boys' tent after the Quidditch match _for one more cup of chocolate _and Ginny falls asleep,

_spilling her chocolate_ on the floor.)

(2) "Chips" is the Oxford (U.K.) word for what we Americans call French fries. Our (American)chips are called "crisps" in

British English.


	8. 7: The Birthday

**LINER NOTES:  
**

Well, here's your next chapter, Eleonora1-who-is-demanding-an-update! There isn't much Remus/Nate in here, it's mostly

platonic Remus/Harry/other people. It's a good deal longer than my normal chapters, but . . . oh, well, that's okay! Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: **I think you people all get the point by now . . . IT DOESN'T BELONG TO ME.

**ARCHIVING: **See Ch. 1.

**RATING: **PG-13 for mild language, homosexuality, and . . . I think that's it this time around.

**REVIEWS!:**

**Eleonora1: **Put the knife down, please, Eleonora . . . violence is not the answer. No, it really isn't. I wasn't aware you'd react

so strongly to a Remus/Grawp pairing . . . no, nonononono, don't! Put the knife DOWN! It was only a JOKE . . .

Oh, dang! You pointed out an error I somehow left in there. That should be corrected. Until I make the correction: Iliad is

"banded" around his leg with a metal band like we real-world people use. The band contains either a phone number or a

tracking number to allow someone to identify the bird if it is caught (it works like a microchip, sort of) and then to contact the

owner. It is illegal (at least in the US) to resell a bird if it has been caught with a tracking band on its leg. Neverwinter and Poe

are also both banded, but as they are very well trained it rarely matters : ) Remus does his best to use normal paper or

parchment that is charmed to look like paper, since this is how homing/carrier pigeons and other homing birds carry their

messages. Most Muggles would simply assume that Iliad was being trained as a homing owl (though that's not a very smart

thing to do) and not suspect anything more. And I'm glad you like my Remusness . . . : )

**DARKMEW13: **Coming right up!

Enjoy!

* * *

It was another three days before anything was heard from Nate, and when news came it wasn't really news at all – rather a

small parcel addressed to Harry, with a short note wishing him a happy birthday, and delivered by a raven who promptly left

again. Harry opened the parcel somewhat excitedly (he'd resigned himself to the "fact" that he'd be alone the next day, so an

unexpected gift was a rather nice way to segue into that) to find a gorgeous leather bookmark and a rather juicy book on

Wizarding history that covered just about everything he would ever want or need to know in a far more interesting way than

Binns ever thought of in his wildest dreams (always assuming, of course, that Binns still had dreams in his spectral state).

Remus was secretly thrilled that Harry would have something that would make him stop needlessly brooding for the next

eighteen or so hours, and so he left Harry on the couch, completely absorbed in a duel between Morgan le Fay and some

wizard Remus had never heard of, in spite of his avid collecting of Chocolate Frog cards (he was quite proud to own one of

the five most complete sets in Britain) and the fact that the wizard probably featured on one. (If he didn't, then it only proved

he'd always been quite obscure and had probably first shown up, and died, in the duel with le Fay.)

Abandoning abruptly all thoughts of Chocolate Frogs and battles in Camelot, Remus set about the much more concrete task

of making lunch, bringing a sandwich and chips (1) in to Harry on the sofa. Harry barely acknowledged him, turning a page as

he picked up a sandwich half and bit – air. A throaty caw greeted them both, and Harry stood up (scattering his chips hither

and yon over the carpet and dropping his book facedown on the sofa with no regard to the bookmark intended to avert such

treatment) with a dismayed "Neverwinter!" The evil bird in question was currently sitting on top of a lampshade devouring the

spoils of her cunning swoop. Harry chased her into the kitchen (Remus wasn't entirely sure what he intended to gain by it)

and, after scolding her severely for stealing his lunch, Harry removed the scroll tied to her leg. Neverwinter flew to the second

perch in the bedroom (Iliad had finally returned, and Remus had promptly seen the need for another roosting implement in

case of visiting post birds) and sulked – no crow liked being disciplined, and Neverwinter was no exception. Harry tossed the

scroll to Remus, picked up and disposed of his chips, and sat back down on the slightly crippled sofa (it had seen many years

of jumping up and plopping down and overnight guests and all manner of spills), picking his book up and the other half of his

sandwich (which had miraculously not hit the floor) and returning to Camelot. Remus slipped the band off the scroll,

completely familiar by now with the unrolling-and-refolding procedure, and waited for the letter to calm itself before sitting

down next to Harry to read.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dear Rémy,

Drivel can be a good thing – I don't recollect at the moment where I heard of the idea, but it's believed that we'd go insane if

we didn't dream – it's not so much sleep we need as it is lack of reality. I must confess to being fully familiar with the two

o'clock insomnia syndrome – it's a rare night when I can get to sleep before one o'clock, at the very earliest. I find your

choice of abstract-time authors and reading materials quite amusing – if you happen to be quite familiar with Hamlet then you

will of course know why (2).

I am afraid I've not been much help insofar as distracting Harry from what I consider the true drivel in your letter (playing one

against the other is never a good idea), but I do hope he enjoys the package I sent him. History of Magic is somehow never

as good in classes as it is in books.

You might want to consider taking your owl to the apothecary in Diagon Alley, if he has been making a habit of disappearing

– he may be under a Messenger's Curse, which would put you in a very bad position if you use him for sensitive material. I

never use Poe for sensitive material (he also has a habit of disappearing – ravens have a tendency to be rather unreliable,

whereas Neverwinter has never given me any reason not to trust her), but if you are unable to keep two birds then it is a very

good idea to keep a close eye on the one you do have.

I have indeed read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and have seen its musical counterpart in the West End,

although I confess I should probably find it more entertaining if it were not so intensely personal to me. For sheer literary value

it is indeed an excellent piece of work. It translated excellently to the stage as well, but it is not something I would care to see

or read on a regular basis. Dracula I have never been able to enjoy. I rather fear it is the result of growing up in a pureblood

family – I could never truly take pleasure in Tolkien or Lewis' (3) works, either.

I just took notice of the fact that you asked if I was aware what a telephone is – I am perfectly aware and have used them

several times, although I find the incessant static to be quite off-putting. I try to stay away from them if I can help it, but

Muggle electronics can be quite useful tools if only one knows how to use them.

Unfortunately I'm still working on those accursed lesson plans, so I have to close for now –

Nate

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - -

Remus folded the letter with a small smile and slipped into the bedroom to put it in his nightstand with the others – fourteen of

them now – and lay back on his bed, happiness reigning indiscriminately throughout the apartment for the first time in a week.

* * *

"Harry – HARRY!" Remus shook Harry's shoulder in what he hoped was a good imitation of being frantic.

"Nnnn."

"Harry – wake up! HARRY!" He shook harder.

Finally Harry sat up, hair tumbling into his eyes. "What?"

Remus did his best to look completely panicked. "Harry – I overslept – it's almost nine o'clock now – could you give us a

hand?"

"Huh?" Intelligent Harry may have been, but a bright morning star he was not.

"The group – I was supposed to be there three hours ago, Harry, I've got my guitar and two of the synthesizers and _all_ of the

mikes, clip-ons and floor mikes, and Raven's going to kill me . . . " Remus accentuated this worried rant by pacing the floor

and running a hand over his face, trying to hide the fact that he was actually trying not to burst into laughter.

"Umm . . . right . . . uh . . . Remus, can you give me – I dunno – fifteen minutes to get a shower?"

Remus nodded, hoping he looked distracted. "I better call Raven and let her know we're on the way . . . oh, she's going to

_kill_ me for this . . . " Remus hurried toward the phone as Harry practically flew into the bathroom. Remus waited until the

water went on and he heard the shower door slide shut before he picked up the receiver.

It wasn't Raven he called.

* * *

Remus and Harry hurried out the door, when suddenly Harry said something that made Remus all but jump. "Remus,

shouldn't we have to load stuff into the car?"

"Everything's in the car, Harry." It was a terrible lie and he knew it as soon as he realized the backseat was empty. The trunk

would never hold everything he'd claimed it to hold, and it was impossible to use Shrinking Charms on . . .

"Remus, there's nothing in –"

"I enlarged the trunk. I didn't want anyone seeing what we've got – we're probably going to have to go through a pretty bad

section of town to get there as soon as we can."

"Oh. Remus?"

"Yes?" Remus hurried to start the car.

"I thought you couldn't lift the synthesizers by yourself."

Oh, Merlin. Now what? He could say he'd levitated them into the trunk, but Harry would never believe that because the

parking garage was too public a place and anyone could have seen him with a wand out and two synthesizers floating along

merrily behind him . . .

"I said Raven and Sinelle couldn't lift them alone. I can do it if I put my back to it. Anyway, I cheated a little." Let Harry fill in

the blanks for him.

"A Lightening Charm?" That would work.

"Exactly." Excellent.

Remus turned left out of the garage, trying to seem like he was hurrying when he wasn't really. Unfortunately, the cool water

of the shower, plus a hurriedly drunk cup of coffee, had woken Harry to the point that he picked up on their direction.

"Remus?"

"Yes?"

"I thought you said we were going to a place in Charing Cross."

"We are."

"Remus . . . Charing Cross is east. You should have turned right."

Damn . . . he was out of good lies, too. "We have to stop somewhere else first."

"Oh."

Remus breathed a sigh of relief.

It was almost twenty minutes later when he finally pulled into the parking lot. Harry stared at Remus incredulously as he pulled

the keys from the ignition. "Remus . . . this is a pizza arcade (4)."

"I know that." Remus pocketed his keys as he got out of the car. "Are you coming?"

Harry stared, suspicious. "You sure don't seem like you're in a hurry now."

"Harry, are you coming, or not?"

Harry considered his options. "I guess I'm coming."

"Good."

Harry blinked as they walked into the pizza arcade – not only had he never been in one, he was sure he was seeing things.

Four red-headed people were waving at him, and instead of picking something up and leaving (or some similar task), Remus

guided him to the table with the redheads, where Harry was promptly slapped on the back by the Weasley twins, high-fived

by Ron, and hugged by Ginny. "Surprised?"

Harry stared at Remus. "You said – you said you were playing tonight!"

Remus shrugged. "So I lied. Feel honored – I don't blatantly lie to too many people."

Fred – or George? – broke in. "Whole thing was our idea, really, Harry. Remus called up at the shop and wanted to know

what kinds of things you might like to do, since we'd spent more time with you than he had and he doesn't get out much –"

the other twin broke in – "and we put our heads together and thought you might like this –" switchback to the first twin –

"because there's almost no teenager who doesn't like video games –" "– and of course ALL teenagers like pizza." "And loud

noises." "No, Fred, I think that might just be us. Ron never went in much for the Exploding Quills (5)."

Harry grinned happily at the twins, and then – since they promptly entered into a conversation with Remus that seemed to be

a pickup from wherever they'd left off over the telephone – he turned his attention to Ron and Ginny. Ron immediately began

updating Harry on everything that had happened since Hedwig took refuge at the Burrow (effectively cutting Harry off from

talking to his friends), and then suddenly interrupted himself to say "And guess what, Harry? I learned how to use a

telephone! D'you reckon Remus'd be upset if I called you up sometime?" At the mention of his name, Remus promptly

shooed Harry and the two nonidentical Weasleys toward the arcade.

* * *

The entire group got heavily involved in a discussion over pizza forty minutes later – it seemed that Fred and George had been

trying to copy the Marauders' Map to sell, and hadn't been meeting with too much success. They could force the copies to

vanish their contents, show the people moving within the walls, or reveal the contents only with an individually set password –

but they couldn't do all three. Ron argued that perhaps the original map had a Copyright Charm on it. Ginny was of the

opinion that the original had been created with a series of spells that had to be used in exactly the right order to create the

effects of the original map. Hermione had suggested in a letter to the twins (she and her parents were again in France) that

perhaps the map had been created through several obscure spells or spells invented specifically for the purpose of writing the

map. Remus simply watched the entire group with amused eyes as they deliberated on possible causes for the twins' failure.

Finally Remus leaned forward and tipped his head in secretively. "You're all wrong, actually. The original map was hand

drawn and then set in motion with a set of six basic spells. The trick is in the quill you use." Fred and George turned,

extremely interested, toward Remus. Ron and Ginny both stared – though they both knew Remus' alter-identity as Moony,

neither expected him to part with such a secret so readily. Harry, meanwhile, was shaking from contained laughter – Remus

had already told him the whole story, right down to how the map would alter its own details to match the grounds as they

changed, and why.

"All right, mate, no fair keeping it a secret. What d'you know about the map?"

Remus leaned back, looking quite amused. "Well, I'm not so sure I should tell you that. It would make the teachers' jobs a

whole lot harder."

"Oh, come on, Remus, you've _got_ to tell us now."

"No, no, I'm sorry, I just don't think it's a good idea."

Harry finally poked him in the ribs. "Come on, Remus, spill. You told me."

"That's different, Harry. These are –"

"They could have been the next Marauders if they'd only known who the originals were and if they'd had access to an

initiation ceremony."

Remus rolled his eyes, groaned, and finally leaned forward again. "Fine. But you can't tell anyone else, do you understand?"

The twins nodded, and Remus pulled out a sheet of notebook paper from his pocket, where he always kept a spare sheet or

two "in case I get any ideas while I'm around." Everyone at the table watched as he slipped the pen out of his jacket pocket,

clicked it open, and started scribbling some kind of very complex looking formula with several short phrases mixed in. After

about a minute he clicked the pen closed, put it back in his breast pocket, and pushed the paper across the table to Fred,

who examined it critically. "Remus, mate, this just makes invisible ink."

"I know that. You have to use a phoenix-feather quill. And yes, it has to be done by hand. There used to be four of them –

there are only two, now. But they were all done one at a time by hand. Don't lose that."

Meanwhile, George's eyes had all but popped from his head, reading the spells written down on the bottom of the paper.

"Cloak Charm . . . Animation Charm . . . bloody hell, these aren't even Hogwarts-grade spells! These are _above_ N.E.W.T.

level, mate. Who did this?"

Remus gave the twins a mischievous glance. "Let's just say Mr. Moony hasn't retired from the game yet, and he hasthree

excellent successors."

Fred was carefully folding the formula paper into his jeans pocket, but George was staring at Remus. "Wait a minute. You

mean . . . _you_ . . . you're . . . "

Nobody sitting at the table had ever heard either of the twins completely lost for words before, and so everyone laughed as

George gaped like a fish out of air. Finally he came to himself, with a typical Weasley twin question: "You got anything more

like this, mate?"

Remus only laughed silently, his eyes still darting mischievously from one person to another, before he answered. "If I did, do

you honestly think I'd give it away for free?" He looked at his watch. "Harry, are you going to use the rest of those tokens

before we leave, or are you planning on saving the entire half a cup for souvenirs?"

* * *

It was a thoroughly worn-out but happy sixteen-year-old Harry Potter who returned home with his guardian that evening. He

turned his wrist to stare again at the watch he'd got with his tickets – a replacement, finally, for the watch he'd lost to the lake

in his fourth year.

Harry was startled by the large barn owl sitting on his bed when he slipped into the bedroom to change into his pajamas

before joining Remus for a cup of hot chocolate. He retrieved the two letters it carried – one of which was addressed to

Remus – and watched as it flew away through the window he'd accidentally left open before they'd left that morning. Harry

meandered out through the living room and into the kitchen, where he handed Remus one letter and then opened the other.

"Remus, my O.W.L.s came in."

Remus put his own letter down to read Harry's. "Wonderful. How did you do?"

Harry flicked through the multicolored certificates. "E plus in Transfiguration . . . A conditioned in History of Magic – what

does 'conditioned' mean?" Remus took the certificate and examined it. "In History of Magic? It means you didn't complete

the test, but based on the answers you gave they estimate your whole grade would have been an A if you'd finished."

"Oh." Harry didn't want to think about why he'd not finished the test, and so he continued flicking through the certificates. "E

in Charms . . . P in Divination – well, I always knew I'd fail that one, I guess that means I can drop it now – O plus in

Defense Against the Dark Arts, I _knew_ I got an O in that one the day I took it . . . E plus in Care of Magical Creatures . . .

_Remus, I passed Potions_!" Harry jumped up, knocking his chair over, and stared at the pale orange certificate in his hands.

He'd gotten through with an O conditioned, and a short explanation given afterward that he showed "extreme promise and

exemplary understanding" in his Potions Theory exam.

Remus carefully tugged the stiff paper from Harry's hands, not wanting to tear it, and a grin spread easily over his face.

"Congratulations."

Harry picked his chair up and sat back down, running his hand through his hair and staring at the O.W.L. summary sheet

sitting on the table in front of him. There it was, in green ink on yellow parchment – Potions, O conditioned. "I'm not sure if I

should be happy because it's a required N.E.W.T. for Auror training or if I shouldn't be, because it means two more years

with Snape." Harry made a face.

Remus, meanwhile, was examining the rest of the certificates. "You got an E in Herbology, too, Harry, you forgot that one."

"I only read them in the order they came out of the envelope, Remus – I did?" Harry turned his head around to read over

Remus' shoulder. "I did."

"You did really well, Harry. We'll have to put these in a book like the one I've got from when I was in school – we'll just

leave the Divination one out and pretend you didn't take it," he added, winking impishly at Harry, who was playing aimlessly

with the multihued certificates now scattered across the kitchen table.

"I can't believe I got an O in Potions. Snape's going to be furious."

"Professor Snape, Harry," Remus corrected automatically, carefully stacking Harry's O.W.L. certificates and slipping them

back into the envelope. "Now let's see what Dumbledore wants with me, shall we?" he added, as he carefully slit his own

envelope along the top. He pulled out a sheet of parchment folded separately from the rest. His eyes moved rapidly back and

forth for several moments, a grin spreading slowly on his features, and then, beaming widely, he pushed the letter across the

tabletop toward Harry, who read only the first two lines before he looked up, caught Remus' eye, and then they both started

laughing. When at last they were able to stop, Remus pulled the rest of the parchment out of the envelope and flicked through

it. "Well, I suppose this means I have to start setting lesson plans tomorrow, Harry," Remus murmured, tucking the entire

sheaf back into its envelope. "In the meantime, don't you think it's time we headed to bed?"

As Harry burrowed beneath his sheets, staring out dreamily at the moon before he fell asleep, he thought drowsily that he'd

never known a birthday could be so much fun. Just as he drifted off to sleep he wondered what had ever become of the other

three copies of the Marauders' Map.

* * *

Author: Tee-hee-hee-hee . . . I'm evil . . . I guess you'll have to review and then read the next chapter to find out!

.:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':..:'':.

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) I seem to have accidentally included this reference in the last chapter. Just for those with slow-loading modems who

don'twant to go back – "chips" is the British/Oxford English word for what Americans call French fries. The Oxford for

potato chips is "crisps" and is used in Goblet of Fire, when Harry decides he will "not accept even a crisp from Fred and

George in the future" after the incident with Neville and the Canary Creams.

(2) Nate is referring to the line "To sleep, perchance to dream" from William Shakespeare's Hamlet, the work Remus was

randomly quoting from.

(3) I assume the reference to J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy (which I have never read but have no problem

abusing as a literary reference ) is self explanatory. "Lewis" is C.S. Lewis, the author of the Chronicles of Narnia (four books

of which I have yet to finish). Both of these created their own mythology (much as Rowling admits to doing), so it is unlikely

that Nate would be able to enjoy what would seem like nonsense to him because in his world, it would be inaccurate.

(4) I don't know if these exist anywhere but in the United States (I feel bad for people in other countries if they don't). For

people in the US: I'm thinking of something like Pete's Pizza or Chuck E. Cheese's here. For those who don't know what

Pete's Pizza or Chuck E. Cheese's are: When you go into a pizza arcade, you order a pizza and buy game tokens. Half of the

place is a restaurant, but the other half is a giant video/game arcade. You go play games with your tokens until your pizza is

delivered (at our local Chuck E. Cheese's, they call your name over an intercom), and then after you eat you go play games

again. It's easy to spend the whole day at one, and you can collect tickets from the games to redeem for some pretty cool

prizes.

(5) A new trick item from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, of course! : )


	9. 8: The Revelation

**LINER NOTES:**

This was written when I was taking a break from setting up my Creative Writing portfolio, which is only half-done, due

tomorrow, and it's 11:00 at night. Be thankful I'm posting this, you ingrates. It'd serve you right if I didn't. (Just kidding. The

break from staticky cover pages and sorting shuffled pages was a good one and well needed.)

Oh, one other thing: I just joined The Master and the Wolf FQF, and am in the process of writing a rather twisted (in a good

way!) Remus/Severus for the Third Wave. I'll post a notice in my LINER NOTES for this story when I've posted at the

FQF.

**DISCLAIMER: **Does J.K. Rowling have pillows under her mattress because it's too old and sagging and she can't afford to

replace it? No? Well, then, I'm not her and we all know she's the Grand High Poohbah of Harry Potter, so . . .

**ARCHIVING: **See chapter 1.

**RATING: **PG-13 for mild language andhomosexuality. Please don't flame me about these things - this is your fair warning.

**REVIEWERS!:**

**Eleonora1: **Be patient, young Jedi. The band will show up in the next chapter. (yes, I'm answering your review in reverse

order . . . because I feel like it.) Yes, Remus tells his identity to the twins - I agree, seeing it not once but in double would be

hilarious! And you never know, Remus might just have a few more Marauders' tricks up his sleeves . . . ; ) Severus' opinion

on Harry's ace of the test? Well . . . I guess you'll just have to see for yourself sometime soon! Nate will not remain Nate for

much longer . . . in fact, only until next chapter . . . muahahaha . . . Neverwinter . .. she's probably my favorite character to

write. Very mischievous, she is. In my mind Remus is and has always been (ever since the second time I read the book, in

fact) an avid Chocolate Frog card collector, an opinion that only solidified when I saw how many people online make him a

chocolate addict : ) And it's not necessarily that Nate is trying to impress Remus - in spite of your opinion on the subject when

I revealed his identity to you, O Impatient One, Nate is quite a caring person in my mind, and truly felt badly when he found

out that Harry has never really had much of his own to speak of.

**Yulara: **Well, you never know, Nate COULD be Severus . . . I could have misled Eleonora so she'd be completely thrown

off when I make the reveal next chapter! I have not read much Shakespeare, but Hamlet is undoubtedly the best I have read!

I pick most of these works from things that either my friends or I enjoy, so if I don't know facts about them (i.e. I couldn't tell

you who's an elf, who's a hobbit, or what an Ork is from Lord of the Rings) I can ask around and get some dirt fast, so you

are seeing either a) a lot of my favoritesor b) works similar to my favorites. I honestly have no idea if pizza arcades exist

elsewhere, and in fact I'm not sure they're even called that (it just seemed to fit what they are, so I used it), but both of my

best birthday parties (ages 4 and 12) were held at Chuck E. Cheese's, our local pizza arcade, so I built on experience : )

Remus is always kind! He's Remus! And what's this about an abandoned story? NO!!!! ::cries:: ::pouts::

Well, enjoy . . .

* * *

Remus sat with the end of his quill in his mouth, cogitating furiously. He had a secret. He had a secret that had to be shared

before he could go any further, but he wasn't sure he was ready to share it. He'd had too many bad experiences with people

who couldn't look past his secret once they knew about it. Finally, in complete frustration, he slammed his quill on the table (it

broke, and he was not so angry that he couldn't spare a moment to grieve a little over the loss of an almost brand new writing

instrument) and turned in his swivel chair until he was facing completely away from the kitchen table. It had not originally been

a swivel chair, but it was so old and loose that finally Remus had given in and magically modified it because he was tired of the

seat coming off. Now it was in danger of coming off again as Remus stood so quickly he nearly knocked it over. He

wandered into the living room, where Harry was again reading the book Nate had given him for his birthday.

"Harry?"

No response.

"Harry."

Still nothing. Remus was almost ready to raise his voice before it occurred to him to try closing the book – so he did exactly

that, slipping the bookmark in place as he did so, and Harry looked up.

"I thought so. Come out of the world in your head, Anne Shirley (1), and join the big people in the _real_ world. I need your

help."

Harry groaned openly. The last time Remus had said "I need your help," Harry had spent the day aiding him in scrubbing

floors and carpets and furniture because Dumbledore had declared that there would be a core meeting of the Order and he

wanted Remus to "sponsor" it. (It was really just a sneaky way of finding out how Harry was doing and living now that he

was in Remus' care.)

Remus looked annoyed. "Harry, honestly, it's not like I'm going to make you scrub the toilet with a toothbrush. I just need

some advice."

"Advice is easier to get than help."

"I know." Remus paused, sitting down while deliberating on the best way to open this discussion. Finally he decided the direct

approach would be the best one. "Harry, I need to tell Nate about . . . my problem."

"You mean about being a werewolf."

Remus nodded.

"That's easy. Just come right out and tell him the truth."

Remus rolled his eyes. "It's not that easy, Harry. What do you think I've been writing at the kitchen table for the past two

hours, a royal summons?"

Harry grinned a bit at the idea of Remus writing a royal summons, and then got serious again. "You can't just dance around it,

Remus. Tell him the truth, just like what you told me when I asked if you'd told him. If he's really the person he seems to be

he'll understand."

"A lot of people don't want to associate with werewolves, Harry, and they're decent enough otherwise. You seem to think

that being straight open about it is going to solve any difficulties I might encounter here."

Harry stood up with a huff. "I _don't_ think that, Remus, but it's a lot less risky than beating around the bush until he thinks

you've actually got some really horrible secret that's even worse, like – like – oh, I don't know, like you're really Ludo

Bagman in disguise. That's a good one."

Remus actually laughed that time. "Well . . . it's not like I've actually got too much to lose, right?"

"Go slap those bigoted bastards a good one."

"Harry!" To say Remus was shocked would be like saying Voldemort had made a couple of bad decisions.

Harry grinned apologetically. "Sorry. I got to the last letter before you did. It's growing on me."

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Wonderful habits he's teaching you. What's really in that book?" The Marauder in him couldn't

resist a teasing jab before stridingout to the kitchen, and then back into the living room and up to Harry's school desk.

He returned to the kitchen with a ballpoint pen. Quills, after all, were very highly overrated.

* * *

Nate was in the middle of a book when Neverwinter soared through his window. He idly closed his rather riveting edition of

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (2), offered Neverwinter a piece of the chocolate-chip biscuit sitting next to him, and

unfolded the letter from Rémy. He'd been a bit startled at first by the other's odd habit of writing everything on plain

composition paper taken straight from a Muggle notebook, but it had quickly gone past surprising to become somewhat

endearing. Immediately his eyes riveted on the phrase "I have something I need to tell you," and his chest filled with icy dread.

This was it. This was the reason he'd stopped seeking people out and become his own little shell. Sooner or later something

rammed into the perfect setting and it moved and tore and was revealed to be only cloth, not reality after all. He half-

considered not reading the letter, and then logic came back to him as he realized that "I have something I need to tell you"

could be something as simple as "I'm going abroad for a bit and I won't be able to write for about two weeks." Nothing that

extravagant, of course, because Rémy definitely couldn't afford it (especially not raising a teenager), but something that

simple. Nothing to panic over. He lowered his eyes again to the paper.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dear Nate,

I finally figured out how to tell when you're approaching a delicate topic – if you've spent two hours sitting at your kitchen

table with a piece of paper in front of you and a quill in hand, trying to write, and finally you end up breaking the quill by

accident because you get so bloody frustrated – well, that's a fairly good indication.

I have something I need to tell you, and I can only ask that you finish this entire letter before making a decision. You don't

have to, of course, but I would sincerely appreciate it if you did. The thing is this: I'm a werewolf.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nate raised his eyes from the paper, stunned. Rémy's usual letters sounded like they came from a man of manydifferentkinds

of faces– sensitive, kind, talented, humorous – but they did not sound like they came from a werewolf. At least, according to

what he knew of werewolves, they were vicious and bloodthirsty even in their human forms and certainly would be neither

interested nor able to hold an almost expert conversation on literature – a good deal of it old and obscure – neither did they

write music, worry about telling white lies, or adopt teenagers. They certainly didn't get up at dawn or keep a birdfeeder.

Almost certain that this was another quirk of Rémy's odd sense of humor, Nate read on.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I know you're probably wondering why I didn't tell you before, and the truth is, I'm not really ready to tell youabout itnow –

but I think you know enough about me as a person to make a decision about whether or not you want this to end whatever it

is we've got here. I intended from the very first letter I sent to tell you the truth if things worked out, and I could be wrong

here (it certainly wouldn't be the first time), but I think things are working out. I don't want to keep someone I care about in

the dark, but I think you'd understand if I said I didn't want to just indiscriminately reveal my condition to any random person

I happened to speak to – or write to, in this case. Time and experience both teach you to be wary of things like that.

I suppose I've taken up enough of your time, if you've decided to stick with it and hear me out even though it's certainly not a

pleasant subject, so I'm passing the ball off to you -

Always,

Rémy

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nate stared out the window. This hadn't been welcome news at all – but did he really care? Assuming Rémy was telling the

truth – and he had no reason to believe otherwise – then all of his beliefs about werewolves were nothing more than illusions

and he had a lot to learn. If Rémy was lying – and based upon how guilt-ridden Rémy had been over Harry's birthday, Nate

considered this highly unlikely – then all of his beliefs about Rémy were nothing more than illusions and he had gained only

experience from this entire thing.

He sat with the letter hanging from his hand, gazing blankly out at the sky as it changed from blue to gold to black, but still had

only questions without answers.

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) If you've never read Anne of Green Gables, well . . . shame on you! What are you reading this for? Go read it! (After you

review, of course.) Anne Shirley is the main character, and is a very imaginative girl who can't be drawn from her dream

world for almost anything.

(2) Heh-heh-heh . . . I'm not telling you why I put this marker in! You'll have to figure that one out for yourself . . .


	10. 9: The Answer

**LINER NOTES:  
**

I'm feeling quite inspired today, so there will be two chapters put out today- and I said this-or-that would happen at this-or-that time if I didn't get another mega-chapter? Well, this was turning into a mega-chapter - so the reveal will be in the other chapter coming out today (I won't make you wait any longer than it takes me to type it up, I promise), not this one. I WILL make it worth your wait, though, I really will. It's only that a friend of mine asked why Remus and Harry never discussed Sirius, and I realized "you know what? She's right, they should," so the first part of this chapter spawned from that.

**DISCLAIMER:** Someone actually emailed me after my"I am JKR"disclaimer to ask if I really was J.K. Rowling. I'm serious. The disclaimer was SARCASM, people! I'll be glad to sign your book, but it's not going to up the value any.

**ARCHIVING:** See Chapter 1, please.

**RATING: **This is rated **PG-13/T** for direct homosexuality (mild kissing, mention of male/male relationship), a guy wearing makeup (**see the REFERENCE NOTES at the bottom before backing up because you think it's squickable, it's probably notwhat you're thinking**),vague discussion of naked people (or rather posters thereof),and general maturity of the content matter. (In other words, amigos, it's not all balloons and rainbows.)

**REVIEWS:**

**Yulara: **On the contrary, Severus would remember the Marauders'awful pranks and taunts without realizing on a conscious level that Remus wasn't a part of it, so yes, he would probably think of Remus as being vicious, though not necessarily in a blood-and-gore sense. Harry did exactly what I would do in that situation - there are times when letting someone down gently just isn't the right approach. If Harry had said "**_Maybe_** you should . . ." then Remus never would have and the chapter would cease to exist. Sometimes you just have to hit someone over the head with a two-by-four to make them listen to sense. And as to LOTR: I've tried four times to read The Hobbit, and every time I try I fall asleep at the same part (when the hobbits are camping in the giants' camp). It took me three hours to get to that point. To give you an idea why this is significant, I read Order of the Phoenix - all 800-some pages of it - in less than six hours. So I have very good reason to not like LOTR - it's a sedative!

**UPDATE: **I finally finished The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien and am now about 20 pages into the first book ofThe Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit wasn't horrible, once I re-read it (and Gollum RULES), but it's never going to trump good ol' Remus.

Enjoy!

* * *

Remus and Harry spent eight days in a nervous state – Remus more so than Harry, as he had more riding on Nate's answer than he was willing to admit. So now he was sitting in the large living room window, staring out at the starry night sky (1) and brooding. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, but he suddenly felt himself enveloped in a slightly childish and awkward hug and leaned backward instinctively, still half-engaged in the memories he'd been sorting through. Harry almost fell over from the added weight, so he sat down on the window ledge. "I was worried about you. You've been sitting here so long I wasn't even entirely sure you were still alive."

Remus shook himself out of his trance. "Sorry. How long have I been here?"

"Three and a half hours."

The werewolf sighed. "I was only thinking – it's almost exactly like the night Sirius and your father found out about – well, I suppose I really found out too . . ."

"About you being a werewolf?"

Remus shook his head. "Gay. Or 'Resident Queer,' which Sirius insisted on teasing me with for the next month. He seemed to find it the height of hilarity to pin a poster of a naked man next to my bed. It took me almost four hours to get the stupid thing off, it kept reattaching itself. Apparently jokes like that never quite go out of style. In seventh year your father woke me up at three o'clock in the morning to beg me to switch beds with him for the night because apparently Sirius found an audio poster of some pinup girl, and she kept laughing because James was sleeping in his underwear. I didn't have it too much better, but I was always the best at Charms, so it wasn't too hard to shut her up."

"Oh." Harry laughed softly at the sudden digression in the path of Remus' thoughts, andscooted further into the window – his legs were falling asleep – and suddenly a wide yet wistful grin broke over his face. Remus hadn't talked about Sirius even once, except that single mention atKing's Cross,since – since the bad night (Harry pushed the thought away from himself) and Remus' brooding only went to show him how little he really knew about his godfather. Maybe he could get some answers while Remus was in this odd, dreamy mood. "Care to share?"

Remus grinned a little and shook his head. "Terribly persistent, aren't you?" he teased, then leaned his head against Harry's shoulder while he tried to sort out the beginning of memory – there was so much entangled with everything else, the way that life does,that he couldn't be entirely certain what Harry would or wouldn't know. Finally he chose a thread. "Well, first, you have to understand that although it's not very often done, people fromall Houses _are_ allowed in the common room of any other House. It used to be much less rare – a lot's changed since I was in school, I imagine the war had something to do with that– and when we were in fifth year we all – all the boys in the Tower, I mean, there were seven of us– got conned into a game of Truth or Dare with the girls and a bunch of kids from Ravenclaw. I think there were a few Hufflepuffs in there, too, and I know Lucius Malfoy's youngersiblings were there - there were two of them, fraternal twins, boy and girl -but that's beside the point. The point really is that I'd only ever kissed your mother on the cheek before, and never anybody else - well, except family, but that's different - in any way, and that's where the whole thing started . . ."

* * *

"_Truth or Dare, Moony?"  
_

_"Er . . ." Remus looked nervously around the loose grouping of friends sitting on chairs, rugs, the sofa, and the __floor, before answering. "Truth, I guess."  
_

_"Okay . . ."  
_

_"And you're not allowed to ask anything overly personal, Lil's, remember that. I don't need people asking if I have bunny rabbits on my underwear or something like that. The sheep question _(2)_was bad enough."_

"_Oh, I'll remember." Lily Evans grinned at him mischievously from the floor, and Remus made a mental note to make __her kiss __James – or at least to dare James to kiss her hand – before the game was over. _

"_Who do you have a crush on?"  
_

_"Erm . . ." Remus thought about that one. "Well . . . nobody . . . actually . . . right now . . ."  
_

_"Ah, that's a boring answer! Make him do a dare, Evans!" James all but howled indignantly from his bean bag by __the fire._

_Unfortunately, Remus' idea wasn't as original a dare as he had thought.  
_

_"Kiss Sirius? Are you out of your _mind_, Lily?"  
_

_"On the mouth."  
_

_James hooted as Sirius and Remus both adopted panic-stricken looks.  
_

_"I'm not kissing him! I don't know where his mouth's been!"  
_

_"Nowhere particularly dirty since I brushed my teeth this morning, Moony," Sirius replied, sounding quite put out. __Suddenly the reality of his friend's predicament hit him full force and he almost doubled over in laughter.  
_

_"What's so funny?" Remus demanded.  
_

_"Only – only – you've never kissed anybody before, have you, Moony?"  
_

_Remus turned a rather becoming shade of red. "There's nothing wrong with that," he answered defensively.  
_

_"Oh, no, there's nothing wrong with it – only that you haven't been visited by the Spark Monster."  
_

_"The _what_?" Remus didn't care too much for conversation about monsters.  
_

_"If you see sparks when you get your first kiss, it means you're going to lose your virginity within a year."  
_

_Remus sputtered indignantly. "You honestly . . . I . . . no! I'm _not_ kissing my best friend, Lily, and I already answered __a question –"  
_

_"Which was vetoed as too boring an answer," James injected. "You're stuck, Moony."  
_

_"And I suppose you honestly believe in this Spark Demon thing."  
_

_"Spark _Monster_. And yes, I do –" Sirius' face broke into a downright evil grin – "It works."  
_

_Remus blushed even more heavily.  
_

_Finally, feeling extraordinarily trapped, Remus swung himself forward on his arms and kissed the corner of Sirius' __mouth. His eyes grew wide for several silent seconds. Then he scrambled to his feet, stared around the circle, and ran __out of the room._

_

* * *

_

"And I ran off like a scared rabbit. That answer your question?"

Harry just about died laughing. "And . . . and did you see sparks?"

"What do you suppose I took off for? I was appalled."

"Bit homophobic?"

"Not really . . . just never really thought I could be one, you know?"

"Yeah . . . I guess. So, so this Spark Monster thing –"

"I never figured out if it was true or not."

"Why not?"

"Well, because I fell just outside the one-year time limit . . . "

Harry groaned. Trust Remus to not be an amusing and typical victim of a secondary-school maybe-myth. It was like the God of Lake Hogsmeade story. Nobody'd ever actually been pulled into the lake by an angry mer-god, but the legend persisted.

Remus grinned mischievously at Harry. "More than you cared to know?"

"I was just thinking it was a bloody shame you didn't fall under the so-called curse."

Remus laughed. "Sirius and your dad both said that."

Suddenly Harry, who had slouched into a lounging position, sat bolt upright. "You never . . . went out with Sirius, did you?"

"As in, in a romantic way, or at all?"

Harry nodded.

Remus laughed at that. "Well, we went to the Graduation Ball together, but that was only because I couldn't find a date – my choices were pretty limited to begin with – and Sirius absolutely refused to let me stay in the tower _or_ to go alone. But we went as friends, nothing more than that. I think at one point he might have been - somewhat interested - but it would have been too much like - oh, I don't know, sleeping with my own brother or something. Probably something close to how you'd feel if somebody tried to set you up with Ron or Hermione."

"Oh."

"Would it bother you if we had dated in a romantic way?"

Harry considered. "I guess not. But it'd be an awful lot to swallow all at one time, you know?"

"Oh, believe me, Harry, I know." He grinned suddenly. "You know, I would've loved to see the look on his face when he came into the kitchen and saw your O.W.L. scores."

Harry smiled a bit automatically, but Remus put a quick stop to that.

"The ones we love never really leave us, Harry. And I know he was here that night, even if we couldn't see him . . . even if he normally exists on another plane now."

"How do you know?"

"I put your O.W.L.s back in the envelope and we went to bed, remember?" Harry nodded. "When I came out in the morning to start breakfast, they were sitting in a row on the table and the envelope was missing. And I can assure you there was nobody else in the flat that night. The door was locked."

"You're putting me on," Harry protested.

"I would do no such thing, Harry Potter, and you ought to know better by now. I rather fancy it would have been Sirius' idea of a right joke, leaving me to go crazy over a disappearing envelope. He enjoyed doing things like that. I wanted to keep it so you'd have it - I still have mine because I didn't want to lose the score summary - but it was gone, summary sheet and all. The only thing left was the part he would have wanted you to keep - the certificates. I'm sure of that. I still have the book with Sirius' certificates in it, somewhere. He refused flat out to keep the rest. He wanted you to remember the important things. That was one of the last things he ever said to me that made any kind of real sense to the general populace instead of meaning something to only Sirius himself."

Somewhere inside, Harry began to heal.

* * *

It was just when Remus had finally resigned himself to the fact that he would probably not be hearing from Nate again that he awoke to the tap of claws against the bedroom window, and when he peered out into the half-lit dawn sky he saw black and a flash of white. Looking back, Remus would say that he had never moved so fast to open the window and get the answers he'd been craving for more than a week.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dear Rémy,

You aren't the only one having writing troubles. I did as you suggested and seriously thought about this answer before giving it, or even setting a quill to paper, but it was extremely difficult to do so.

The only answer I find myself able to come up with is that, to be truly honest, I don't know what to say. I have always had one picture of werewolves based off those that I have met and what I've read in books and the newspapers. You certainly do not fit that image, but I'm not sure whether or not I would still want to pursue this. You've shown me that perhaps I'm not always in the absolute right – but I'm really not sure what to think. To be perfectly honest, I feel I'd rather make a more informed decision. Would you care to meet sometime? Name a place if you'd like to meet – we both live in London and I can get almost anywhere in the city provided I don't have to guard myself against overeager courtesans.

Always,

Nate

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Remus stared in shock.

* * *

Remus tipped his head back and forced his eyeball down so he could still see into the mirror as he lined the bottom of his eye with kohl and eye pencil. "One of these days I'm going to go get major cosmetic surgery and I won't have to do this anymore, won't that be wonderful, Harry?"

Harry just shook his head from where he was sitting. "But your face still wouldn't show up on stage if you didn't put on makeup (3), so you'd be defeating the purpose."

Remus gave a sort of half-nod to the side. "I suppose you've got a point," he conceded as he covered his eyelids in some kind of lighter-than-flesh-tone liquid that seemed to double the size of his eyes. "One nice thing, all this gel and liquid makeup is a lot easier to use than what I was stuck with when I first started doing things like this. Back then powder makeup and stick makeup were the only kinds that existed – other than pancake and greasepaint, but those have been around for a few hundred years (4), and I wasn't aiming to look like a clown."

Harry heard the unvoiced and subtle question. "You look fine, Remus."

Remus played nervously with his earring (another acquisition he'd added himself when he was fifteen or so). "Do you think so, really?"

"Absolutely. You'll tell me about him when you get home, right?"

"Of course." Remus paused, and then burst out with another question. "You don't think it was a bad idea, do you, Harry? To ask him to meet me between sets?"

Harry grinned approvingly. "Absolutely not. It's the best thing you could do. Assuming he's actuallysome crazy bloodthirsty maniac – I don't believe that, but pretend for a minute that maybe it's true – then you're in a public place, surrounded by people, and there are people you have to account to. If you don't show up, they'll come looking for you. You're meeting him casually instead of some formal thing right off, so it won't be as awkward, and if he's been around for any of the show you'll have something to start off a conversation with. It's a great idea."

Remus grinned too, but his grin was anxious and quickly faltered. "I hope you're right."

"I know I'm right. You need to get going. You only have an hour to be there and you always say you like to be there as early as you can."

Remus nodded, not quite sure what to say, and stood up.

"Don't wait up, Harry."

"I won't."

"And you know the rules when I'm not–"

"No open flames, no using the phone for long distance or superlong calls, you'll call at ten, there's money on the kitchen table if I want to go down around the corner to eat, don't be out after eight, and if anybody comes around make sure I know who's at the door for absolute certain before opening it."

"Right. Wish me luck."

"All the luck in the world." Harry hugged his guardian briefly but tightly and handed him the car keys. "When are you going to be home?"

"I don't know. I'll be here in the morning."

"Okay."

Remus shut the door.

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

**(1)** I inserted this to make my 10th grade English teacher, Mr. Jenkins, happy even though I'm not in his class anymore (he was my favorite English teacher and actually encouraged us to study Harry Potter for literary value, which is how I started writing Harry Potter fanfiction). Stars in literature are a symbol of hope and a positive outlook (or that things are "looking up"). Winter stars can mean death, but summer stars – like these – are often a sign of good things to come. Just thought y'all might like to know the origin of this phrase, which did not exist in the notebook-form draft of this chapter.

**(2) **This is a pun-joke shared by Alicia and I. Alicia is the proud owner of a bedroom set with sheep on it, and a matching pair of pajamas. I was teasing her little brother (nicely - considering he's a little squirt we get along pretty well) about wearing one of Alicia's old shirts, or something like that, when the idea of Remus in Alicia's pajamas popped into my head for no real reason, along with an amusing pun onan old cliche - "A wolf in sheep clothing." The 'sheep question' would probably be arather embarrassing question as to where he got them, etc. (I envision them as hand-me-downs from his sister Catherine.)

**(3)** This is true. Heavy makeup is a must when performing onstage, even if you're male, because stage lights tend to "wash out" your complexion and make you look sickly and blurred (think old Polaroid photo here). Remus is not secretly a drag queen – he just knows the true professional tricks of the trade.

**(4)** Someone in my math class tried to argue this with me, but it is very definitely true – greasepaint has been around for a long, long time. "Blackface," the form of makeup used by 19th century (and earlier) performers to play Othello and other black characters onstage, is a form of greasepaint.


	11. 10: The Reveal

**LINER NOTES:  
**

Here's the second chapter of the day! Enjoy! But don't skip ahead to the reveal . . . let it come as it will.

**3 JUNE 2005**: UPDATE - I didn't want to refer to "Nate" as Nate in this chapter when I revised it (date given), so there are some places where things like "he Nate thought that he Remus didn't know just how good he Remus really was," and that kind of thing. If you're not sure who's who, don't agonize over it - it will be easiest to tell if you remember that the section in question is written entirely from Mystery Man's POV, so "he thought" actions will be Nate, and "he did" actions (what Nate is seeing) will be Remus. There is one sentence - I believe it's the very last one in the section - that could apply to either or both Nate and/or Remus, so interpret it as you like - my personal favorite interpretation of it is that it is both of them, but any of the interpretations will work fine.

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm back in the fuzzy blue bathrobe, amigos. No, I don't ownHarry Potter- but I do own most of the band. Sinelle Draconn is the creation of the wonderful **Eleonora1**, who also provided me with the name "Jason Tych" for the drummer, and Raven Knight is . . . well . . . she's kinda me, as I wish I were, only she still has The Long Legs From Hell. (I hate my legs - or at least, I like the way they look but I hate the inconvenience of them.) Consider Raven a sort of parody of me at my baddest bad-girl self.

**ARCHIVING:** See Chapter 1.

**RATING: **This is rated **PG-13/T **for **language**, **homosexuality**, **mild drinking**, and **general maturity of content matter**. Don't like, don't read.

**REVIEWS:  
**

**tiffany: **I'm glad you like it! Enjoy the reveal, buried somewhere in this chapter . . .

Enjoy!

* * *

The band wasn't too bad, he thought. He'd been here since nine thirty, about an hour and a half after they would have started. It meant sitting through a good deal of music he didn't particularly like, but he made a habit of trying to be early for everything for one, and for another he was curious – Rémy enjoyed his music, that much was certain, and he wanted to see where the appeal came from. 

He'd been told to look for "the blonde guitar player (1) in the red shirt," but as luck would have it both guitar players (one was playing bass, actually, buthe didn't know enough about guitars to know which it was) were blonde and both were wearing red shirts. It didn't take him long to sort them out, though, because after they finished the number they were playing and the girl behind the keyboard let out the last quivering bit of vocals, the members all started to banter.

It started with the bigger of the two guitar players – a man about 5'10" or so, but beefy – walking over to the smaller one (no taller than 5'4", and weighing probably all of about 140 pounds soaking wet) and draping an arm around the smaller one's shoulders in an extremely familiar manner. The smaller one – who, incidentally, looked somewhat familiar ifonly he could determine where he'd seen him before – carefully picked the larger one's arm off his shoulders and lowered it with exaggerated care back to the bigger one's side, saying "Sonny, I believe we have a . . . rule, don't we . . . about hands?"

The patrons of the bar all laughed. Rémy had said they played this place, The Night Shift, every other Friday, and a good deal of the people seemed to be regulars. They probably saw something like this every time the group was in here – it seemed to come naturally to the people onstage.

"Oh, yes . . . of course. But that wasn't a hand, Rémy –" so Rémy was the smaller one, then – "that was an arm." More laughter. "Really, Sonny . . . I think you're a great person, you beat hell on a guitar, and you're a pleasant drunk. But I _really _have something against having sex with someone who looks like a younger version of my dad. I mean, maybe that's just me, you know, that could be a big craze, these days, I wouldn't know, but . . ." Rémy trailed off, allowing the crowd's guffaws to cover whatever he wasn't saying.

"I'm only eight months older than you!"

Rémy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out, opened his eyes, and very slowly breathed, "Sonny . . ." He was good at getting these people going, wasn't he? "Sonny . . . I know you're only eight months older than me. But I'm – _really _– not interested. Go bother Jason," he added, patting Sonny on the arm and picking his guitar back up off its stand. As he did so, the lead female vocalist – a girl with shiny black hair down to her waist and legs thatthe man in blacksecretly thought would look less out of place on ahairless Acromantula – half-skipped over to Rémy, making an exaggerated production out of it (she was good at pulling in the laughs too, it seemed), and leaned her arms on his shoulder, and her head on her arms. Rémy turned his head toward her, looking bemused, as she asked him – in a voice obviously hussied-up for the purpose – "Does this mean _I_ get a chance, then, Rémy?"

Rémy just raised his eyebrows and set his guitar back on the stand to his left, still looking bemused, pausing for a moment and folding his arms before answering. "Have you had any serious operations lately, Raven?" Again he paused for his laughs, most of which were coming from the peoplehe had assumed to be regulars. As the chuckles died off Remy stepped back, eyed the black haired girl - very closely - up and down,walked all round her, and then slapped the front of her thigh playfully. The girl jumped and let out a startled (and extraordinarily girlish) squeak. Remy shook his head. "Apparently I can still tell without looking. Definitely female," Remy announced. More laughs, and one man from a front table whistled at the stage. Remy raised a hand in a sort of casual half-wave of acknowlegement.

So it was no secret around here that Rémy was gay. That was a good thing – he had been getting nervous about what people would think, seeing two men sitting together alone at a table, deep in some kind of obviously intimate conversation. So far as he knew, this was Rémy's only paying job andit wouldn't be good for himto lose it. As the laughter died down,he turned away from his drink and peeredtoward the stage again.

"So unfortunately for you . . . no." Raven pouted. The girl behind the keyboard called out "So, Rémy, howzabout them Bulls, huh?"

The regulars fairly roared with laughter – apparently this was some kind of inside joke whose answerhe wouldn't get tonight. Rémy threw his hands up and raised his eyes skyward. "What is this, Hit on the Lead Guitarist Day, or something like that?" The laughter continued, andhe reflected momentarily on how easy it was to amuse a crowd of drunks, and how amusing it was to watch drunks being amused when you weren't one of the drunks in question.

Rémy reshouldered his guitar and sidled up to a microphone. "So – this next number, this is one we actually did because when we came up with the idea to cover it – have you ever had one of those, you know, crazy ideas that sounds _really _good when you're buzzed and it's one o'clock in the morning? It was one of those ideas, and if anybody had told me then how bloody difficult it would be to learn it I would've said no, I would've said – I just wouldn't have said anything, I wouldn't have done it. I just wouldn't have done it. But I did, like a complete _idiot_ I said I'd learn it, and I did. And we all did, so – this is really fantastic even if it's a real dog to play, so – let's just get on the bloody number, why don't we? Sonny, where's my beer?" Most of the patrons laughed as he rather dramaticallytook a swig from the bottle he was passed, and Rémy gave everyone a look of overexaggerated, wide-eyed innocence as he passed it back. "What? It's still my first bloody beer all night and we've been here almost two bloody hours. See, and that's my idea of going to a bar, one or two drinks in six hours. That's why I can still do this."

He started a loop on the guitar (2). Scattered applause accompanied this – it seemed it wasn't a number they played very often, by the murmurs that floated for a few moments.He did something he very rarely allowed himself to do, and lost himself completely in the skilful blend of music and voice.

* * *

When the song was over Rémy stepped back from the mike and Raven's voice took over from the other floor stand. "All right, it's ten o'clock, people!" Applause and whistles. "We'll be back at eleven, until then we've got Sinelle Draconn on keyboards and backup, Jason Tych on drums, Remus Lupin on lead guitar and vocals, Sonny Barton on bass guitar, I'm Raven Knight, and we're the Irregulars!"

The applause picked up and then died down as the five Irregulars trooped off the stage and off in separate directions, buthe saw none of it. All he could think of werefive words, over and over: '_Remus Lupin? It can't be. . . '_

* * *

Remus hurried back up toward the stage as he left the pay phones – Harry was watching a movie and planned on going to bed as soon as it was over. Now Remus had someone to meet. 

He moved hastily toward the table he'd indicated to Nate in his letter. He saw a black-haired head bent down, far lower than if he'd merely been drinking, and Remus was confused for a split second until he saw the edge of the book beneath the man's arm. He chuckled softly. Yes, this must be Nate.

He moved almost directly behind the man and studied him from behind for just a moment – tall and thin with a black braid dangling down between his shoulder blades, pale skin, and – Remus grinned to himself – long, thin hands. So he'd been right.

"Excuse me – are you Nate?"

The man didn't look up. "I am." There was only a momentary pause before he continued, "Tell me, did you plan this whole thing out all this time or are some distant gods laughing at me?"

Remus moved behind the seat next to Nate, preparing to sit down. "What do you mean, did I plan this out? I only just got off just now –"

"I know that." The voice was clipped, strained, but not entirely cold. If anything, Nate sounded somewhat confused. "I was referring the whole thing. The letters. The whole personality in them. Was this all just a joke?"

Remus was stunned. "Not at all, never! Why would you think that?"

The dark head lifted, turned, and Remus' lips parted in complete shock.

Large dark eyes.

Italian nose and cheekbones.

Long neck, not now covered by a collar.

Two rogue locks of thick black hair falling over the left side of the face.

It couldn't be. The odds were next to impossible.

But not entirely impossible, it seemed.

Suddenly Remus understood why this man would have left laughing gods as an option. It seemed the gods were laughing at him, too.

How else could he explain the fact that he was currently looking directly into the eyes of none other than Severus Snape?

* * *

Yes, this was the original ending of the reveal (or very close to it, just a few style changes), no characters have been changed or switched around. . . -laughs evilly- See how hard I work to keep my plotlines secret, even if I don't succeed? 

**NEXT CHAPTER:** The pair talk, and come to a conclusion. But only I know if it'll be the last chapter with the two going their separate ways, or if it might blossom into something wonderful . . . and I'm not telling, no matter how many times you email me begging for answers!

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

**(1)** Just for the record, this would be an electric guitar. Whether or not Remus plays acoustic guitar is something I've not yet decided.

**(2)** The song I have in mind here is "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. Because it's a bit slow in the beginning, it's harder to play and keep in tune. I don't know why exactly this song seemed to fit, but it did. In some ways it could be interpreted as Harry and Remus wishing Sirius were around, so maybe I drew off that . . . I honestly don't know.


	12. 11: On Talking

**LINER NOTES:  
**No random notes for once! At least, I don't think.

**DISCLAIMER:** At this moment, every single thing I am wearing is secondhand. I sincerely doubt it's mine.

**ARCHIVING: **See Chapter 1 please.

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13** for **homosexuality** and **language**.

**REVIEWS:**

**Yulara: **Remus will explain, to some extent, why Severus would not have recognized him onstage, but there is another

reason that you can find in Chapter 5: The Crow. (It's listed on here as Chapter Six because of the interlude, which I do not

number.) In addition, it's quite likely that the bar, being a typical bar, would be full of cigarette smoke, which would also toy

with Severus' vision.

**tiffany: **Severus did indeed know that Harry Potter had become the legal ward of Remus Lupin, but remember that the

person Severus is writing to is called "Rémy." Remus will answer your question (both of them, actually) this chapter as well.

**Eleonora1:** Well, as you know, Raven is my version of a self-insert - she's me as I wish I really were. I do have the Long

Legs from Hell (believe me, they are - you don't know torture until you're a long-legged girl trying to squeeze into one of

those car things at an amusement park. I can't play Dodge'Em Cars anymore because my legs are too long!), but my hair is

very short and blonde. The idea behind the "Spark Monster" is merely a name and a theory- Sirius explains the entire

concept. If I can fit in a mention of Remus' first lover, I'll certainly do that for you, but the next few chapters are very full -an

explanation of Remus' family, school shopping, revealing Nate's true identity to Ron and Hermione,and the return to Hogwarts

and a few surprises waiting there - you might have to wait a bit to find out who it was! (Sorry to the Siri/Remy fangirls, it

won't be our lovable Padfoot. In fact I'll have to figure it out myself - I never thought about it before you asked!)

Remus' hair, in my mind, is a sandy light blonde, much like my own before I dyed it (I'm now a proud honey-blonde). He is

certainly not a brunette. I have never been able to picture him as one, not since the very first time I read Prisoner of Azkaban.

I defer to JKR on most things,but on this one - sorry, hon, he shoulda been blonde. (And "blonde" is the unisex spelling here

in the States, so I'm not going to worry about genders and things like that.) The pen would actually be Remus' pen (notice

that's what he usually uses), he just had it in Harry's desk - probably to keep it from getting lost in his own chaos! And I think

that answers all your questions . . .

**CHARACTER INSERTS: **It's not often that I do self-inserts or real-life inserts, but there are three of them in this chapter

(and the past one): Raven is loosely based off myself (though I am not a gorgeous black haired thirty year old. No, I'm a

sixteen year old version of Luna Lovegood, minus the silver eyes). Sinelle Draconn is the wonderful **Eleonora1**, my most

faithful reviewer (yes, she'll show up again, though not in a major way I don't think); and Alicia the chestnut-haired waitress is

my best friend, Alicia, who correctly guessed the challenge posted in the first chapter and thus earned a write-in.

ENJOY!

* * *

Remus mouthed soundlessly; his vocal chords seemed to have disappeared, taking his brain right along with them. Finally he 

managed to come out with "Do you mind if I sit down?"

Severus shook his head, and Remus pulled out the chair next to him. A waitress with chestnut hair and a tiny frame moved up

to the table. "Hello there, I'm Alicia; I'll be serving you tonight, would you like anything?"

Remus considered. "Just water, thanks."

Severus held up his glass, and the slightly freckly barmaid took it. As she slipped easily away through the smoke and the

crowd, Severus raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you could play guitar."

Remus played nervously with his hands. "There's probably a lot you don't know about me. I could say the same for you."

Severus almost – but not quite – snorted. The sound was more like a "mmm" than anything else. "So were they real?"

Remus had been staring broodingly at the table next to them without really seeing it at all. He swiveled his head back around

quickly. "Hmm?"

"I said, were they real, Lupin."

"So we're back on a last name basis already, are we?" Remus paused and furrowed his brow. "Were what real?"

"The letters. Or was that just some kind of twisted jest on your part?"

"They – I still can't believe it's you. I should have spotted it as soon as you told me you were a teacher. Or by the things you

said you were reading or –"

"Cut the rant, Lupin, and answer the question."

"It wasn't a joke. At least . . . I didn't think it was. I knew there had to be another shoe dropping somewhere." Alicia the

waitress returned and set down Remus' water and . . . whatever was in Severus' glass. "Do you want anything else for now?

I can go get it now . . ."

Both men shook their heads. As she left again, Severus began speaking. "So you really do play piano and read the classics?

Everything you said was true?"

"Everything except the fact that almost everyone calls me Rémy. It occurred to me after I sent that letter that it's really only

my Muggle friends – and the witches and wizards I met through that part of my social circle – who call me that. I suppose I

stretched it a bit."

Severus waved aside the semantics with a gesture Remus had seen him use quite often as a student, as though he were lazily

clearing smoke from in front of his face, and then took a drink of the mysterious substance in the glass. "I was referring to the

things we talked about."

"All true."

Suddenly, with the air of a man putting two and two and two and two together to get eight, Severus stared directly at Remus

so hard that Remus began to squirm. "Then Harry is –"

"Yes, that Harry."

Severus shook his head in self-disgust. "Forget you recognizing me, how did I not recognize you? Especially tonight? I didn't

have any idea who you were until that black-haired girl said your name."

Remus considered for a moment before answering. "It's not too surprising, really. I never gave you any definites to go on. I

never told you I'd been a teacher. I gave you a rough date for Harry's birthday that could put it any time between July 26th

and August 7th. You never knew my last name. Tonight – you'd probably call me a drag queen if you had any idea how much

makeup I have on so people can actually see in the back. Stage lights have a tendency to distort things. I don't normally dress

like this. And let's be honest, Severus, what do we really know about each other? I almost guarantee it never occurred to you

that I don't still live with my parents. And I'd have been the last person to peg you as a classical-music lover."

There was a long pause before Severus' answer. "I suppose we don't really know that much. Remus."

Remus grinned shyly and blushed (although the heavy foundation he was wearing concealed it), tipping his head down toward

his water glass. Severus nodded at it. "I can't believe you don't want anything stronger than that." Remus eyed the glass with

a slight expression of distaste. "I'd love something stronger, but if I get drunk now I won't be able to play when I have to go

back on. Beside which, I'm a terrible drunk."

As though it had been some sort of secret cue, Sinelle – the keyboard player – slipped up to the table. "Remus? Phone

message for you."

Remus reached for the slip of paper she held out to him and read it. "We need milk and bread." He shook his head. "Milk

and bread. You'd think he'd go to the corner store for that. It's only a block away from the flat."

Severus processed the statement before inquiring, "Did he like that book?"

Remus smiled widely. "He's hardly put it down since he got it." For the first time since Remus had known him, Severus

looked truly gratified. "I'm glad he is enjoying it."

Remus suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Severus . . . I don't . . . I mean . . ."

Severus looked at Remus sharply. "You're still concerned over this?" He pulled a slip of paper out of his book and pushed it

across the table. Remus recognized it as the letter he'd sent to "Nate" suggesting they meet here tonight (and informing him, in

response to the postscript at the end of "Nate's" letter, that dinner was broccoli chicken).

"Well . . . yes . . ."

Severus let out a hefty sigh. "You say you wrote those letters honestly. I say I am interested in knowing more about the

person who wrote them. You ask what we know about each other – honestly. I answer that we can't know that much. My

main goal tonight was to meet – you – and determine what I truly thought of you. Therefore I see no problem."

"Except that you despise the air I breathe."

"I came here with an open mind. I intend to keep it that way. Your true identity does not affect that fact in the slightest."

Remus looked down and caught sight of Severus' book. "What's that you're reading?"

Severus flipped it over to show the front cover. "Lord of the Flies."

Remus shuddered. "I never could finish that book. I got to the point where Simon ran into the Beast and when they started

talking about the flies all over that pi-"

Severus interrupted him. "Don't tell me. I'm not that far into it yet. Which reminds me, I believe this is yours." He took

another small volume out of his pocket and handed it to Remus. "You lent it to me when I said I couldn't find a copy."

Remus grinned slightly as he slid it into his own pocket. "What did you think of it?"

"It was fairly well-written for a Muggle vampire story (1). I simply couldn't believe it when the older one

died. I honestly thought he'd make it through. Whatever happened to the priest?"

"Father Callahan?"

Severus nodded.

"I don't know. You never find out."

"He needs to write another."

Remus grinned. "Stephen King has written many books, but I believe that's the only one about vampires."

Severus looked intrigued. "What kind of books?"

"Contemporary fiction. Horror, mostly. Although almost all of his stories are quite good. Misery was positively fantastic. It's

about an author who's kidnapped by a crazy woman who claims to be his biggest fan, and she makes him write a story for

her."

"Does he write about that kind of thing often?"

Remus shook his head. "Almost all of his books are very different. Take The Talisman. A boy has to travel between two

worlds to save – his mother, I think. And The Running Man is about a man who joins a reality television show – it was

actually written long before reality television was created – where you have to run for thirty days, because you're running from

these people who are looking to kill you."

"So it's mostly science fiction."

"Not really. Horror. Fiction. Some is plausible, but most – at least to the Muggles – isn't."

"I might have to look for more of his books.Inever expected who would live and who would die in that one."

"Don't bother. I've got the whole collection. You can borrow any of them anytime."

Again, Severus looked quite pleased. Remus smiled to himself. Maybe he could just make this work.

* * *

Remus slipped in the front door only to be confronted by apositively furiousHarry Potter. "Where the hell have you been,

Remus? It's almost seven o'clock in the morning!"

Remus tossed his coat onto a chair, not even bothering to consider hanging it up, and pulled the spectacled boy into a tight

hug.

"I take it you had a good time. Tell me you didn't stay over at his house already."

Remus shook his head, letting go of Harry and drifting into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. "No – I met him between

sets, and then went back and played – we ended up staying, the band, I mean – until two, and he was waiting when I got off

again. We had a drink, and talked for awhile, and when the bar closed – around three – we went for a walk down in the

park, and then he went home, and I was too keyed up to sleep so I just went down by the Thames and I've been walking

there ever since just thinking about everything."

Harry stared. "You walked around for _four hours_?"

Remus just looked at him, slightly confused. "What time is it?"

"I told you. It's almost seven o'clock. I couldn't sleep either so I got up and started reading and I was waiting for you to

come home. You scared the hell out of me."

"Watch your language, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "But you had fun."

"It was fantastic."

Harry sat down at the table with a glass of milk as Remus did the same, adding sugar to his tea. "So tell me about him."

Now here came the part Remus had been dreading. Maybe he could skip it. "Well, there's not much to tell, really, he wasn't

exactly as I expected him to be but he was still quite nice –"

"Come on, Remus, spill. What's he look like? What did you talk about? Where does he live? Stop beating around the bush."

Remus took a deep breath. "You're not going to like this, Harry."

"What is it? He's married or something, right?"

"No . . . Harry, it's Severus," Remus blurted out.

Harry stared at him. "You mean – _Snape?_"

"How many other Severuses do we know?"

Harry gaped in unadulterated horror. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"And you – you – _enjoyed_ yourself?"

Remus sipped his tea somewhat more calmly than he had come in the door. "Absolutely. I think the fact that I was honest and

upfront in my last letter to him – as you suggested – removed a lot of the animosity he felt toward me – me as Remus, I mean.

He even said so, when we were talking – that it must have taken a good deal of nerve to stand up and admit to being a

werewolf when I didn't even know the full name of the person I was telling."

Harry was reeling. "I can't believe you really – I mean – he actually – are you meeting him again?" he finally demanded.

Remus nodded. "Next Wednesday. We're going to lunch. And then he wants to meet you."

If Harry had been horrified before, there were no words for what he felt now. "Meet _ME_?"

"Yes, you, Harry. To paraphrase what Severus said, if he misestimated me then perhaps he's done the same to you."

"I can't believe this."

"Believe it, Harry. We still have no idea where we're going with this, but at the very least it'll be a good deal more pleasant

for all three of us, going back to Hogwarts with a bit of an understanding if nothing else."

Remus stood. "If you don't mind, I'd like to lie down for an hour or two. It took long enough, but I think all the walking finally

got to me."

Harry got up from his seat. "I'll join you. I'm exhausted."

Harry fell asleep almost instantly, propelled not only by his all night vigil but by limp relief as well. Remus, however, took

longer. Surreal things had a tendency to do that to him.

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) 'Salem's Lot by Stephen King. I've tried not to give away any plot points in case you care to read it. It's quite a good

book, but (as my copy is in rather battered condition, poor book – it was a first edition, too) I have only ever been able to

find copies of it at secondhand bookstores and once for about a week in a grocery store. I'm playing off the idea that it would

be even harder to find overseas.


	13. 12: On Adoption

**LINER NOTES:  
**

It's 11:20 at night and I have school tomorrow, so I'll do the fine editing - like turning all the quotes marks so they face the right direction - tomorrow when I get home. For now, here is the next chapter! It is somewhat short and does not develop the Remus/Severus relationship any, but it explains some very important things - like the ages of Remus' siblings and why he was so persistent in getting Harry away from the Dursleys. I'm very proud of myself for this chapter- know, all of you, that it's been 3 months and 4 drafts in the writing!

UPDATE: Editing has been done and I've got Chapter 13 open (typing it right now) in Word. Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: **Well, the bathrobe isn't secondhand, nor are the slippers - but I still don't have the hair extensions. Nope, not mine. The Adoption Charm is a device used by **Eleonora1**, who is aware that I am using it and has given her permission for me to do so. Kudos, Sinelle -giggles-

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13/T **for **potentially interpreted emotional child abuse** and **discussion of violence.**

**REVIEWS:**

**tiffany:** Glad you liked it! This chapter is quite low on giggles, but does have a LOT of plot.

**Yulara: **Ditto to tiffany. This one, again, really doesn't have any bubbly one-liners, but I think you'll like it. I know Eleonora1 will LOVE it, because - well, see the disclaimers.

**Eleonora1:** Oh, boy, it's the marathon reviewer : ) Well, Severus should have put two and two together, but it's sort of a wishful-thinking thing: "There's no way in a million years it's him. No, it's just some coincidence. I can sleep tonight." I do that a lot to keep from going crazy (ha, like there's anything to prevent). Remus wouldn't have had as easy a time, especially with the "Natasha" throwoff - who in the name of Merlin would expect "Severus Natasha Snape" to pop up? (Unless you read my work quite frequently, then you know to expect ANYTHING!) The cemetary book is called "Pet Sematary," and yes it's spelt that way on purpose. Yes, Harry's reaction is one I honed for quite some time for maximum impact. Glad you enjoyed, now have a nice angst-fest here!

**Nightshade-013:** Nice new name! Glad you enjoyed, wait till you see the twist in THIS chapter!

Enjoy, everyone! (and no, this is NOT, repeat **NOT** the end of the story - this chapter just has a strong closing for once.)

* * *

"Harry, I'm leaving, and if I have to come back up for you you're not going to be happy!" It was a very irate Remus Lupin who was berating Harry Potter in such a manner, because Harry was sitting in the bedroom and sulking. The three days between the last time he'd seen Severus and now had passed slowly – at least, slowly to someone who was looking forward to something like this. Severus wanted to meet Harry on a non-scholastic basis, and he was supposed to meet the two of them – Remus and Harry – in half an hour. Where theywere going from thereonly Remus truly knew – Severus had some idea (having been quite grudgingly talked into it by Remus), but was completely unfamiliar with the institution in question. 

"Harry!" The bedroom door opened with a bang, and Harry stalked out in blue jeans and a scruffy, slightly torn black button- down shirt instead of the T-shirt Remus had lent him. Remus sighed, exasperated. "Harry, go get dressed."

"I am dressed."

"You're not leaving the house like that. We're going out."

"Then I'll stay home."

"You will be coming with me and you will be dressed decently when you do it. Now go get changed, before I make you." Remus didn't often let his temper get the best of him, but he had been known to be a bit short on occasion and this was one of them. Harry heaved a hefty sigh and retreated, returning a few moments later in the blue T-shirt Remus had left on his bed.

* * *

They were halfway to wherever they were going to meet Snape – Harry didn't know and really didn't care – before he decided he ought to apologize. He couldn't quite bring himself to do it, though, and so instead he phrased his repentance subtly in a question. 

"Why did you want me, Remus?"

"Hmm?" Remus looked over from where he was sitting staring at a red light.

"I said, why did you want me? I mean, before you became my guardian you didn't have to really work, you could bum around if you chose, you didn't have to follow the rules. You gave all that up for me. Why?"

Remus didn't answer, but Harry could sense somehow that he was not being ignored – rather, Remus was trying to shape a difficult answer to a difficult question. Finally he spoke.

"I suppose I should start by admitting that I lied to you, Harry."

Harry snorted. "What else isn't new?"

Remus smiled, slightly bitter. "No, I don't mean like that. You remember the picture I showed you, of my family?"

Harry nodded.

Remus swallowed hard before continuing. "The people in that picture, Harry, aren't actually related to me."

"WHAT?"

"Remus and Everjoice Lupin are not really my parents."

Harry just stared at him before sputtering "But – but – you look just like them!"

The blonde shook his head and persisted. "It was an Adoption Charm, Harry. My birth name is Jeremy Christopher Moore. By genetics, I really ought to look like a cross between your cousin Dudley and the Weasley twins. An Adoption Charm changes the appearance – and, subtly, the character – of the person it's cast on so they fit in their new family, although it cand do so to many different degrees. I consider the Lupins my real family. The Moores were nothing more than relatives. That's the first half of your answer."

"So what's the other half?"

Remus took a deep breath. "When you were in third year, Harry, I told you my parents did everything they could for me after I was bitten. That was partially true. The Lupins did everything they could, my siblings included. My birth parents abandoned me at St. Mungo's –"

"How could they do that?"

Remus smiled sadly. "There's something called the Dissolution of Care clause, Harry. When a child is infected by a Dark creature, the parents may choose to leave their child in a safe place for adoption if they are unable or unwilling to raise a child with special needs. It's been thirty-two years, Harry, but I've never forgotten the day I was bitten. And I've never forgotten waking up in the hospital alone, and scared, and hearing my parents in the hall and not understanding why I could hear them when they were so far away. And then they walked into the room – I remember Joan, my birth mother, was wearing this bright red lipstick and nail polish and I thought how much like blood it looked – and she said she was leaving because she wasn't going to raise some freak of nature."

Harry gaped. "How could she just – do that? Abandon her child? And call you something like that? You're not a freak!"

Remus shook his head. "I really don't know, Harry. But – and this is the important part – I didn't understand her words for months. It was the look on her face that told me everything. I wasn't wanted. And even at four and a half I was old enough to understand 'freak.' That look just killed me inside. I was eight years old, I'd been adopted for nearly two years, before I was even able to really function again. I was just convinced there wasn't really a point. And when I saw your relatives look at you the same way Joan Moore looked at me – like they'd rather be anywhere else than meeting you after ten months and they thought we were all a bunch of complete ingrates – that just infuriated me. I vowed right then that I'd kill them all if I had to, but you weren't spending another month there. Not another week, if I could help it. And I'd have taken Azkaban gladly to get you out of there. Of all the things that really get to me in this world, Harry – and there aren't too many – the one that really gets me the most is when people are like that. When they don't want one of the most precious things in the world – a child who really means the best and wants nothing more than to do right and know he did it. That just angers me like nothing else."

Harry stared down at his hands. "You'd have done that for me?"

"In a heartbeat. Something you ought to know right now, Harry – a wolf, werewolves too, create packs – werewolves even do it in their human form. It used to drive your father crazy because I never talked about being with a group or having a girlfriend – boyfriend – I always talked about packs and mates and that kind of thing. It's not a huge difference, but he couldn't stand it. Sirius just made a joke out of it. But my main point – you've been part of my pack almost since I met you. And you're asking for a very painful death if you ever mess with someone in a wolf's pack. It's one reason werewolves have to register – even though it's a very serious thing to bite someone, there's something called a 'justified attack' in addition to punishable attacks. Justified attacks include being threatened, under the influence of a mind-control spell or potion – and having a close member of the pack severely injured or threatened. We protect each other. Justifiable attacks are fairly rare, but registered werewolves have a sort of Ministry protection - the Ministry more fully protects those around werewolves, because the consequences of anything happening to a pack member can be quite severe. I could have turned the whole lot of your relatives, and as long as I could prove justifiable cause I'd walk."

"But you still could have gotten in a lot of trouble."

"Remus and Everjoice risked everything to adopt me. Even the others – all the kids who came after me are adopted – even the others all combined didn't cause as much trouble and red tape as I did, just because of a four-inch scar on my neck. You caused trouble and red tape because most of the world views you as just The Boy Who Lived. But I see you the same way my mum and dad saw me when they first saw me in the orphanage – they didn't care about the scar or the transformations or the fact that they were essentially adopting a liability. They saw me for just me. Just a kid looking for love and somebody to take him home and give him different clothes and a real name instead of a Ministry-issued one. I chose to look at you as just Harry instead of looking at all the fancy ribbon and packaging. I can never return the favor to my mum and dad – but I can pass it on. The things I lost are small sacrifices compared to the reward I gained by just having you around and knowing you're happy, Harry. Which reminds me, we have to go shopping for your clothes next week. You're not going back to school in those rags."

Harry blushed. "Thanks, Remus."

Remus ruffled his hair affectionately. "No problem, kid. We're here."

As they pulled into the parking lot of the massive apartment block Snape seemingly lived in, Harry decided to make an effort. He couldn't return the favor, but he could pass it on.


	14. 13: On Reunions and Dark Things

**LINER NOTES: **

Here is a nice long chapter to make up for the length of time that I wasn't writing! I think I'll continue writing in WordPad - I don't have to go back and fix all the quotes marks to aim the right way, YAY! As you know, this chapter was originally going to be much different, but it refused to write . . . so here is the version that I came up with. And I would like you all to note my careful use of language from the seventies in the scene with the "punk" boy. As you'll see a few moments after reading that scene, there is a very good reason the boy is talking so oddly . . . **ALSO, I HAVE TRIED AND FAILED TO FIND A REASON WHY MY TEXT KEEPS RUNNING ****TOGETHER. **I'm really, honestly sorry - I've tried reposting, different formatting, etc. and NOTHING WORKS. Please forgive the oddnesses of things like "Remusreplied" or "butthenhe," because I thoroughly check my work before I post it. All I can figure is that perhaps it's some kind of glitch between the site and my account, because I also tried editing from Alicia's house and had the same results. Thanks to **Eleonora1** for drawing the problem to my attention - I will continue to see if it can be fixed.

**UPDATE, 3 JUNE 2005: **This problem appears to be fixed -crosses fingers in hope- but I can make no promises. Please let me know if it continues to be a problem for you!

**DISCLAIMER: **Clearance clothes + secondhand sweater + bad case of acne equalsa clear lack of money, ergo I am not J.K. Rowling and **I DON'T OWN IT. **Is that my final answer? Yes, that's my final answer. Melody Lupin is mine, though.

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13/T **for **language **and **homosexuality.**

**REVIEWS: **

**Eleonora1: **In a word: No. Remus is Remus is Remus. He won't be changing. Really, the point he was getting across is that he would have been pudgy, redheaded, full of freckles, and a bit of a whiner (Dudley). Not too attractive. Really, he's much better off as is, trust me. Remus has never been able to really forgive the Moores, but he is an optimistic dreamer, so he doesn't really dwell on it - he's long since given up the idea that he has to go seek bloody, hellbent revenge for what they pulled. And I agree with you, Joan's a . . . erm . . . nice mate for Padfoot, of course! (LOL . . . dog lovers should know what I'm talking about - see Aunt Marge) Can't hold too much against her husband (what was the name I sent you in that timeline? Mine got deleted . . . dangit!), though, he REALLY doesn't wear the pants in their family. I actually stole the packs and mates thing from you . . . LOL . . . I liked it! And I could be wrong, but in one of your newer chapters (the one where Severus is turned into a werewolf, that story), did you cop my "justifiable attacks" thing? Severus' attack on that brat seemed quite familiar . . .

**Miss Anonymous hp: **I'm glad you're liking it so far! I feel very bad that I haven't been able to get anything out . . . my muse went on strike . . . and my plot bunnies . . . well . . . :suddenly goes into Hermione mode: Did you know that if you store plot bunnies in an airtight container, _they die_? It's true, it's in Hogwarts, a History . . .

**Yulara:** :also wipes tear: Love you. Love Remus. Love Severus. Love your story. Love updates. :hint, hint . . . not that I'm any better:

**Princess Nat: **I find your name amusing, probably for obvious reasons . . . LOL. Anyway, I'm glad you're liking it - I found it hilarious that while I tried so hard to keep it a secret, I simply . . . couldn't. Eleonora outed me. Well, then she stuffed Severus back in the closet . . . that was a bad, _bad_ analogy, wasn't it? Anyway, she outed me, and from that point on I was desperately trying to make it seem like it simply couldn't be him without making my own task (justifying each and every single one of his idiosyncracies, i.e. dislike of Tolkien) any harder. All this at a pace of about 3 days between chapters? No wonder my muse ran away from me!

And as always . . . enjoy!

* * *

"Hurry, Harry, we're going to miss it! _Why_ didn't I put an Amplifying Charm on the alarm, today of all days - here, now, I'll see you on the other side, Harry, make sure you have everything - Ron's bringing Hedwig?" 

Harry nodded at his guardian, somewhat overwhelmed by the flow of words.

"Good, that's good . . ." Remus murmured distractedly, disappearing through the gateway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Remus had some sort of guard duty on the platform. Harry turned, facing the solid brick partition (1), and began walking purposefully toward it with his trolley. He was almost ready to go through when a sulky-looking boy with an impossibly long black braid and general Gothic style stepped in front of the barrier and then slouched against it. "Hey, man, woss yer name?" Harry almost groaned aloud. He'd heard of 'punks' like this boy, and he was going to miss the train because of him! Better to just tell him . . .

"Harry."

"Harry what, man?"

"Er . . . Potter . . . ? Who are _you_?" Harry shot back.

The boy appeared completely unperturbed by Harry's question. "Man, that's groovy. Great year, Cat." He reached out, all but forcing Harry to give him a high five, and as he did Harry felt the boy finger the wand hidden in Harry's sleeve. The boy stepped aside, and Harry hurried through the barrier, quite unnerved by the entire exchange.

* * *

"Harry, great to see you, mate! What's new?" Harry was relieved to be back among the familiarity of his friends, and he'd just begun to answer Ron's question when Remus jumped up in alarm. "Where's Severus?" Ron, who was blissfully oblivious to "Nate's" true identity, saw no reason for Remus to be so cut up over the missing Potions Master. 

"HEY!"

Remus raced to the door and threw it open, grabbing onto the handle inside the compartment as he did so. Harry and Hermione both peered out the windows, while Ron just looked confused. Suddenly Harry gasped - the punky boy was running down the platform with far more energy than Harry would originally have credited him with. He saw Remus hanging out the door and reached for his guardian'shand to keep him from falling right off the train. Remus grabbed the punkyboy's wrist and heaved him up, and the next moment Hermione slammed the door shut and the pair on the floor rolled off of each other.

"We do seem to be having that problem a good deal lately, don't we, Severus?" Remus chided. He and Harry had attempted to teach Severus to roller skate (an amusing sight if Harry had ever seen one), and the attempt hadn't gone too well. Harry was too busy gaping at his Potions Master to pay any mind to thoughts of what had transpired over the last two weeks. The seventeen-year-old "boy" Harry had seen on the other side of the barrier was now stripping off a black and silver "Nirvana" hooded sweatshirt and a garish yellow Walkman CD player.

"Damned Muggle clothes . . . smell likedog shit . . . thebarrier wouldn't let me through, did you have any problems with it?"

Remus shook his head, and Ron stared at Severus with a look that surpassed hilarity. "Bloody _hell_, that bloke was _you_, Professor?"

Severus reached back behind his head and very slowly removed several hairpins. The knee-length braid fell to the floor, and he shook loose the tumbled, slightly curly locks that had been held fast behind it. "I always knew this bloody thing would come in useful someday," he commented, picking the braid up off the floor and beginning to roll it up around his hand. "And yes, Mr. Weasley, 'that bloke' was me. The headmaster felt it prudent to add extra security this year. Does your mother know what kind of language comes out of your mouth?" He fastened the braid in a roll by way of the hairpins, handed it to Remus (who promptly deposited it in the battered suitcase Harry remembered from his third year), pulled off the white T-shirt he'd been wearing underneath the sweatshirt, and turned it inside out. Ron stared openly and Hermione let out an "oh" as it turned itself into a black and white button-down shirt similar to the ones Remus wore. As Severus finished buttoning it, he commented, "Now I feel somewhat human. Bloody thing -" he pointed at the sweatshirt - "the person I borrowed it from doesn't seem to believe in washing things."

* * *

The morning hours passed quickly, with two new, interesting people to talk to in addition to catch-up on the summer's activities - Severus seemed much more approachable sans the black robes and wearing blue jeans. Ron had been stunned at the news that Nate had turned out to be Severus, but he was equally stunned that Severus had not recognized Remus - the redhead felt certain that Harry should have been a dead giveaway. 

"I never considered the possibility that I was writing to someone I already knew. The odds must be simply astronomical, Mr. Weasley. Can you tell me in all honesty that you would have conjectured such a thing?"

Ron stared at Severus, his brows slightly furrowed. Finally he spoke. "Er . . . conjectured?"

Severus snorted impatiently as Remus, with the dedication of a saint, set about trying to explain 'conjectured' without sounding like he was talking to a three-year-old. "If you conjecture something, Ron, you're guessing about it - only a conjecture is more sophisticated than a guess. It's more like a deduction. Don't feel bad - almost every time I try to talk to him I have to go find a dictionary." Ron just stared, openmouthed, before trying to answer the original question. "Well, I mean, a lot of stuff would seem way too weird - like Harry being his - ward, right, mate?" (Harry nodded.) "And stuff like that, that you'd already know abo- _bloody hell_!"

Remus and Severus jumped to their feet as the train shivered to a halt. Hermione whimpered. "What's going on, Professor?"

Remus looked around warily. "Stay in your seat, Hermione, Ron, Harry -"

The door to the compartment slid open.

* * *

All of the compartment's occupants half expected a tall, shuddering black creature to float into the compartment to terrorize them. The five were slightly surprised, then, to observe the - fully human - being striding formally through the door. Harry leapt up. "Tonks! What are you doing here?" He tried to hurry forward to pull the currently black-haired Auror into a hug, but she stepped back, her eyes showing no sign of recognition of any of them, and she raised her wand. "Sit down."

Harry stared at her, mouth agape. Remus echoed her. "Sit down, Harry . . . Just listen to her, everyone . . . " He took a step back and followed Tonks' order, Severus doing the same. Harry finally turned around and shuffled back to his seat as a tall, thin wizard with severely combed brown hair and cold blue eyes stepped into the compartment. He, too, was wearing the light blue robes of an Auror.

Tonks and the man stared around at the five occupants of the carriage, before Tonks addressed herself to Harry. "Full name?"

Harry's mouth fell open again. "Come on, Tonks, what's going on?" Her eyes blazed coldly. "Your full name, if you please." Harry continued to mouth silently for two or three seconds before Remus prodded him gently. "Just answer her questions, Harry."

"Erm . . . okay . . . Harry James Potter, then." He expected Tonks to be satisfied, perhaps to start laughing and tell them all that this was some kind of elaborate joke, but instead she glanced down at a clipboard that had mysteriously appeared in her hand. "Age, school year and family?"

"I just turned sixteen . . . I'm going into Sixth Year . . . and . . . er . . . family?" He glanced at Remus helplessly.

"They need to know who your parents are and who you're living with, Harry," Remus informed him, all the time keeping one eye on the wands in the Aurors' hands.

"Er . . . right. My parents are - were - Lily and James Potter . . . " Harry paused, slightly stunned at the fact that he could answer the question in such a calm and unemotional manner - he normally avoided questions, and answers, involving his parents. "And Remus -" he gestured to the blonde sitting next to him - "is my legal guardian. I stayed with him this summer."

Tonks nodded. Then she took four steps forward, grabbed Harry's left wrist, and extended his arm. She pressed on his forearm through the cloth. Harry gasped and jerked his other hand toward his forehead. Tonks brushed his bangs back out of his eyes and stared critically at the scar on his forehead, then pulled his sleeve back and carefully examined his arm. Apparently satisfied with what she saw - or didn't see - she moved on to question Remus in the same manner, though instead of asking about his family she inquired as to his address.

It was only when the Metamorphmagus reached the other side of the compartment and examined Severus that anything out of the ordinary happened. She pressed on his arm, and he gasped just as Harry had done - and pulled his arm away from her in an almost involuntary action. Jerking his arm back out full-length, Tonks shoved his sleeve up to his elbow, and her eyes darkened as she saw the skull and snake just below the crook of his elbow. She turned half toward her companion, but covered Severus with her wand. "You have anything on Severus Snape, Ferrum (2)?"

The brownhaired Auror rustled through a large stack of parchment, extricated a sheet, and slid it on top of the pile. He read silently for several moments before looking up harshly at Severus. "It says here that he's currently employed by Dumbledore. He's clean."

Tonks stared at Severus suspiciously for several moments before releasing his arm and allowing him to roll his sleeve back down. Then she stepped back and addressed all five of them. "In accordance with a search ordered for security reasons by the Ministry of Magic, we are required to go through your belongings. Do any of you have anything on your personthat may be considered a Dark object or a potential tool for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, such as Time-Turners, restricted potions, or a second wand?"

Severus raised his hand slightly and then pulled something out of his shirt front. Tonks moved back toward him and examined the object, which seemed to be on some sort of chain or string around Severus' neck. She cast a Dark-detection spell on the object, and then, apparently satisfied, nodded at Severus, who tucked it back beneath his shirt. Remus leaned toward Harry, clearly ready to say something, but a sharp glare from the Auror named Ferrum put Remus right back in his seat, not moving except to raise his own hand. Tonks looked in his direction, and Remus offered, "I have two advanced books on curses - for my N.E.W.T. classes - but I think there may be an illegal spell in one of them that I haven't had the chance to remove." Tonks nodded at him, and then ordered Ron, Harry and Hermione to open their trunks. Remus pulled his suitcase down from the rack and opened it before Tonks had a chance to ask him about it. She stared, hard, at Severus. "You have no luggage?"

Severus shook his head. "I moved back up to the school last week so I could prepare the Potions classroom for use. My presence in London today was only as a member of Dumbledore's faculty guard - a precaution to make sure that only students boarded the train. I arrived at six o'clock this morning and left on the train - obviously."

Tonks stared at him for just a moment more, clearly waiting for him to make some kind of guilty movement, before she turned back to Harry's trunk, which she was searching. After a moment she pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. "You didn't mention this."

Remus spoke before Harry had the chance to. "I tried to tell him he should say something about it, but your partner -" here Remus indicated the Auror named Ferrum - "didn't want me speaking to him."

Harry mouthed for only a moment before coming up with an explanation. "I'm - I'm sorry - I didn't know. That I should, I mean. Mention it. I didn't think it was important." He paused only a moment before adding, "It belonged to - to my dad. I got it from Dumbledore when I was in First Year. Mydad left it with him, or something like that.I've never used it except in school."

Tonks performed the same spell she'd performed on Severus' mysterious object, then handed the cloak back to Harry. The Auror named Ferrum questioned Hermione thoroughly on the spellbooks in her trunk (apparently a good deal of them were not required for school, and she was carrying them around as extra reading material) before nodding, ticking something on his paper, and closing the lid of her trunk. In less than ten minutes he and Tonks had finished with the boys' trunks and Remus' suitcase (apparently there wasn't too much of interest in a few pairs of socks and underwear), closed them all, and glided out the door silently as they had come, Tonks instructing them to stay in the compartment until the train was again in motion.

"What the bloody hell was _that_ all about?" Ron asked, perplexed. Severus answered him.

"Apparently the Ministry is searching the train for Death Eaters. It doesn't surprise me. It would be quite easy for someone to Polyjuice into the form of a student, for example, and gain entry to the school. I was checking wands outside the barrier today, but it's possible that someone could have got through as a parent - I couldn't prevent them from going through, especially if they had a First or Second Year student with them - and then Polyjuiced on the other side of the barrier -"

"It's not possible," Remus interjected. "Minerva, Filius and I were all checking for possible Dark activity, Severus. Nobody could have worked a switch without one of us noticing."

"Well, Icertainly dohope you're correct, Remus - what the hell?" Severus stared as the compartment door slid open again. This time the man framed by the door looked much friendlier, but still quite formal and strict. Everyone fell silent again as he stepped in.

"My name is Pascal Anion. I am a representative of the Bureau of Dark Creature Control in the Ministry of Magic. As I am sure you are aware, a Ministry team is searching this train to ensure the safety and security of the students." He paused and glanced at each of them in turn. "Do any of you fall under the classification of a Dark creature?"

Remus raised his hand, and upon receiving a questioning glance he pulled out an ID card from his wallet and handed it to the slim, darkhaired representative. Pascal Anion raised his eyes from the card, to Remus. "And you have a scar or werewolf identification number?"

Remus hesitated. "Both . . . but the number's not accurate. It was changed when I was six." At the man's nod, Remus bared his neck, showcasing the long, crescent-shaped scar on the right side for about ten seconds before pulling his robes back up to their proper place.

"And your number?"

Remus pulled his robes down slightly, revealing a rather intricate bird (Harry thought it might be a phoenix) tattooed just below his collarbone. "The number is in the feathering. I got tired of people asking me why I had a number on my chest, so I got permission to cover it." Pascal Anion examined the tattoo minutely before nodding. "I will, of course, have to check the number, as you state it is no longer current, but it appears to be in order." Remus nodded in understanding as the representative voiced his next question.

"Have any of you been marked by a Dark creature?"

Remus nudged Harry's elbow. "That's you, Harry."

Harry stared at him. "Me? Why me? I've never -" Pascal Anion stared at him, and Harry's insides squirmed. Fortunately, Remus stepped up for the defense. "Harry is my legal ward. I gave him a Pack sign before the July full moon, as he chose to stay with me instead of with a friend."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You never told me that!"

Remus shrugged. "I didn't see a reason to."

"And if I may inquire, why not?" Harry didn't see how Remus could stay so calm under a stare like that. The man obviously didn't mean them any harm, but he had the kind of gaze that simply forced you to be unsettled no matter how friendly he seemed.

"I didn't think he'd take too kindly to the idea of how a Pack mark is formed, but I wasn't going to let him stay the night without one. I thought it was an unnecessary risk to take, even with the Wolfsbane Potion."

Pascal Anion nodded, seeming to understand Remus' predicament, before scribbling something on a sheet of parchment, thanking them, and leaving. About five minutes later the train started up again, and they were on their way.

* * *

"Kline, Rose-Marie!" 

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Lancer, Jordan!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry stared up at the Head Table as the Sorting continued, long and monotonous. There had been nineteen people under the letter "D" alone. Suddenly Remus' face lit up, and Harry turned back to the Sorting just in time to hear Professor McGonagall call "Lupin, Melody!"

A long pause. It stretched on . . . and on . . . and on. Finally Hermione whispered, "She's been sitting there for more than a minute and a half! I wonder if something's wro-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped loudly, and continued all the way up to the time that Melody Lupin hurried up and collapsed onto the bench on the side of the table opposite him. Harry grinned at her. "Congratulations."

Melody smiled at him in the same breathless way he recognized from Remus. It still stunned him that the two weren't actually related. "Thanks."

The Sorting went on . . . and on . . . and on . . . and finally Dumbledore stood from his place to make his announcements as "Zircon, Melanie!" was sorted into Hufflepuff.

"I have several announcements this year . . . First Years should be aware - as should all older students by this time - that the forest on the grounds is strictly off-limits unless you are entering with a teacher and during daylight hours." Ron, Harry, and Hermione all shared startled glances. Before, the forest had been held in strict taboo. What had changed?

"Secondly, we are welcoming back Professor Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Almost everyone who had known Remus during his last term at the school applauded loudly, as did many of the younger students (who assumed that if he received such praise from the older students, he must be a pretty decent teacher). Dumbledore motioned for the applause to die down, and as it did he continued. "Older students will already know this, and so it is to the younger students that I address myself - you should all be aware that Professor Lupin is a werewolf." Whispering broke out, and even Dumbledore's efforts to quell it did not succeed. Finally Remus stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. Silence reigned instantly (though several students threw their hands over their ears - Remus' whistle wasn't particularly pleasant when he was aiming for volume). Dumbledore smiled and went on. "Your parents and guardians have all been informed of the fact, and I should tell you all that all possible precautions have been taken to prevent any accidents from occurring. Professor Lupin has also requested that I inform you all that he is perfectly willing to answer any questions you may have and to assure you all that his condition will not negatively interfere with your educations."

Remus smiled shyly, and Harry took his eyes off his guardian to stare at Severus, who was sitting on Remus' left. Severus, Harry determined, was a fantastic actor - there was no sign that he'd ever known Remus in more than a casual/professional way. He applauded disinterestedly with the rest of the teachers - but Harry, who was watching for such things, saw him slip a piece of parchment into Remus' hand. As the headmaster proceeded with his announcements, Remus unfolded it and began to read, blushing scarlet almost immediately. Harry turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"Thirdly, as you are probably all aware after the search of the Hogwarts Express . . . the Ministry of Magic has requested our cooperation in the war against Lord Voldemort." Whispers and shudders again washed over the hall, but quickly receded as the headmaster raised his hand. "Aurors have been stationed within the school, and I must ask that you show them the utmost respect and that should they request your aid, you would be so good as to give it to them. I have been assured that their presence will be much more discriminatory than that of the Dementors three years ago, and that they will not attack or unnecessarily follow any student. If you have any questions on the state of affairs within the Wizarding community, they will also be happy to give you as much information as they can. It is only together that we can overcome our problems and win this war." Another wave of murmurs. Another request for silence. "Now, as I'm quite sure you're all extraordinarily famished by now . . . tuck in!" And with that, Dumbledore sat down, food appeared on the plates, and the new year at Hogwarts had begun.

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

**(1)** I'm using the movie version of the train station for this - don't kill me! I _know_ the book says it's metal, but somehow I just can't see it . . . kinda like my feelings on Remus with brown hair.

**(2)** I raided my Chemistry text during a particularly boring class period yesterday (our substitute didn't know ANYTHING). "Ferrum" is the Latin/old word for iron (as in the metal). Gotta love the Periodic table . . . you'll be seeing a lot of Chemistry- related names popping up in my work from now on . . . I wrote out a whole long list of cool names I can use or adapt for my evil purposes . . . muahahaha . . .


	15. 14: On New Beginnings

**LINER NOTES:**

Hrm . . . uh . . . um . . . I haven't been getting any email from my normal penpals, and none of my favorite stories have been updated. So . . . I'm hoping maybe with this chapter, people will forgive me for the hiatus and start reviewing and such again, since I know you're all nice people. . . I'm still trying to fix the run-together text, by the way. And it seems I'm not the only one having this problem - I've since seen it in several other stories on here. The help email seems to be down, too, so all we can really do is be patient.

**DISCLAIMER: **If it was mine, Remus, Severus and Harry would all live Happily Ever After and Sirius would choose not to interfere (but he would be very much alive and happy), Dumbledore would stop employing tactics he blasts Voldemort for using, and Voldemort would run around in evil pink bunny ears . . . you can't be a true villian unless you have some of that ultimate epitome of evilness, PINK . . . -runs away from screaming Barbie fans-

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13/T **for **language**, **mild violence**, **verbal abuse**, and **moderate homosexuality**.

**RATING NOTE: **I've determined this probably won't go past PG-13 - I prefer implied scenes to directly stated ones, as you'll see at the end of this chapter (I hope I wasn't _too_ nonspecific there, let me know if you don't get it - I was considering rewriting it but I wanted to get this out today) and I'm definitely no good at writing sex scenes, so we're probably as high as we're going to go. I'll continue to post a rating, however, as some warnings (i.e. violence, language, and so on) will vary from chapter to chapter.

**REVIEWS:  
**

**Summer: **Oh, no . . . now I have to start putting that "any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events is unintended and entirely coincidental" warning in my disclaimers! I made up the name "Joan Moore" from one of my favorite sources - the combining of two (or three, as in the case of Remus' birth name) people who are completely unrelated. In this case, the two people in question were Joanie (a woman my aunt knows) and a girl named C- Moore, who goes to my school. (Name removed for privacy) It saves me the trouble of trying to come up with names all on my own. I'm glad you're liking it so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!

As always . . . this story is dedicated to **Eleonora1** and **ImmortalFlick **(Would you update "Unwanted or Improper" already!), and my best friend Alicia . . . enjoy!

.:Haruka Lune:.

* * *

"Bloody hell, mate, I pity you - you've got Snape almost _all bloody day!_" 

Harry swallowed his biteful of toast and marmalade to ask Ron just exactly what he meant by that. Then he saw his schedule and almost died. There was a reason, he supposed, that Tuesdays (1) were rapidly becoming his least favorite day. Nine o'clock, N.E.W.T. Potions (doubled) - Professor Snape. Eleven fifteen, Potions Theory - Professor Snape. Twelve fifteen to one, lunch. One o'clock, N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts (doubled) - Professor Lupin. And at three fifteen - Dark Arts (doubled) with Professor Snape?

That didn't look quite right.

But he had ten minutes to get down to the dungeons for an entire morning with his least favorite teacher.

Who would have no qualms about taking every point Gryffindor currently had.

Harry decided he'd better get moving.

* * *

Harry arrived to class almost 20 minutes late, but this could hardly be counted as his fault - Peeves had stolen his bag, hung it from a rather tall statue, and when Harry - after much undignified jumping and reaching - had finally got it down, it had caught on the statue's hands and ripped. He'd spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling after quills and ink bottles and books and parchment. And his wand, which he'd put in his bag - he wouldn't need it, after all, since he was going to Potions. Then he'd discovered his copy of Accelerated Brews, Serums and Potions (the required text for N.E.W.T. Potions) was missing, and he'd been forced to hunt down Peeves (who wasn't hiding particularly successfully, luckily) to retrieve the book. Of course, Peeves wasn't about to just give it up. In another lucky stroke, however, they happened to be in the upper levels of the dungeons - and with the aid of the Bloody Baron, Harry was quickly on his way to class. Unfortunately, he'd made the decision to run in the vain hope that he'd get to class on time - and he'd been caught by Filch, who promptly escorted Harry to the caretaker's office. Harry'd finally begged Filch to just give him detention because he was late for class, and had reiterated the entire story - at which point Filch, in a rare moment of goodwill, let Harry go with no consequences (he far preferred to take the case to the Headmaster in the hope of removing Peeves). That carried Harry up to the moment that he pushed open the heavy wood and iron door to the Potions room, still carrying his torn and inky bag from all corners so as to prevent everything falling out (it beat carrying everything in his arms). Severus - Snape, now, he guessed, since they were back at school - looked up from where he was lecturing and allowed a slightly unpleasant smile to creep across his face. Harry hated it. He'd maybe learned to put up with the man over the summer, and there were even a few things he liked about Snape - but Potions, and its professor, were still among his least favorite things at Hogwarts. Harry sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening that maybe he'd escape from this alive - not that Professor Snape would kill him, but the other Gryffindors might if he lost them Merlin knew how many points. 

"So, Mr. Potter. You've decided to grace us with your company at last."

Harry knew from years of experience that "It wasn't my fault" would only get him more soundly punished, and so after taking one or two seconds to catch his breath he started with"I'm sorry, Sir." Then he held up his bag in the hopes that he'd be asked for an explanation. He was. Perhaps luck was running his way at last. Harry took a deep breath - in spite of his intention to condense everything as tightly as possible, it was still going to be a fairly lengthy story.

"Peeves stole my bag, sir. I had to get it off the statue of Queen Maeve on the first floor of the dungeons, and when I finally got it down it ripped, and I had to pick everything up, only Peeves stole my Potions text, so I had to chase him down to get it back -the Bloody Baron helped me with that. Then I realized it was almost nine o'clock -" so he could stretch the truth just a little -"and I started running because I didn't want to be late -" he paused for a breath -"and Fi- I mean, Mr. Filch took me to his office for running in the corridors. He only let me go about five minutes ago and I came straight here as fast as I could. Sir."

Snape had moved behind his desk as Harry told his tale, and now he was looking down at its surface as though trying to glean some kind of divine intervention from the polished mahogany wood. Finally he lifted his gaze and stared directly into Harry's eyes.

"Give me one good reason why I should not take fifty points from Gryffindor and assign you a detention, Potter."

Harry was exceedingly thankful that he'd had the chance to study the man's psychology before the school year started. Experience was on his side, now.

"Because it would have been far easier to skip class than to come down here after all that, but I chose to come to class anyway even though I knew the whole walk down that you'd probably be waiting to kill me as soon as I walked through the door, Professor, and I didn't think it was a very good idea to start the year by skipping a class I'm going to need every brain cell I possess to pass in the first place."

Snape actually almost smiled. Harry almost had a heart attack. The Potions Master shook his head. "Sit down, Potter. You may take the notes from your deskmate."

As luck would have it (his day just didn't seem to be destined, as Trelawney would say, to be a good one), there was one seat open. Next to Draco Malfoy. Harry groaned inwardly as he sat down, and then almost had a heart attack again (at least the day would be interesting, some imp in his brain decided to say) as Snape motioned toward Malfoy. "If you would, Mr. Malfoy, I believe Mr. Potter has notes to copy."

Harry scribbled frantically, trying to listen to Snape's lecture while copying down an outline of the syllabus. He was stunned at some of the things they'd be learning to recognize and brew - undetectable poisons, restricted potions, a large section on illegal potions (though they wouldn't actually be brewing any, of course), sometime after midterms they'd be required to stock the Hospital Wing, and -

"Potter!" Harry jerked his head up sharply, only to be staring directly into the eyes of arather irritated Potions Master.

"Er - yes, Professor?"

"Did you hear a single word I just said to you, Potter?"

Harry was exceedingly glad he'd taken up Occlumency again on his own - if nothing else, it had taught him to calm his temper at a moment's notice. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just finishing copying the syllabus. Did you ask me something?"

"I did."

Damn Snape for not letting him off easy on this one.

"Then could you repeat the question, please, Professor? I didn't hear it." He wasn't going to let Snape ruin his chance at being an Auror, especially not over some stupid, childish provocation.

"The five effects created by using human blood in certain subgroups of potions, Potter."

"Er . . . yes?" What about them? Snape had been talking about them, he'd heard that much, and he'd read about them in his N.E.W.T. text, but since the entire last part of the lecture had been on human blood, Snape's comment could mean anything.

Snape closed his eyes in frustration. "The five effects, Potter. Name them, if you are capable of doing so. Or perhaps I have to explain to you what that means, as well?"

Harry bit his lip and tried to think. "Erm - it's really important in mind-control potions - not truth potions, though - because it . . . um . . . if you're trying to control a human . . . it has something to do with some kind of mind-link or something . . . " One down. He knew he'd got that one right, even if he'd explained it terribly, because he'd been reading about it just that morning at the breakfast table (he didn't want to become Hermione, but he knew this class would be bad enough without throroughly reading the material). "And . . . er - if it's used in poisons that are absorbed through the bloodstream, it makes the veins collapse because it upsets the salt balance (2). If it's used in - erm " Damn, Snape had to pick _that_ question, didn't he? "If human blood is added to an . . . aphrodisiac, it . . . concentrates it." Giggles from most of the girls in the room, and a sneer (along with a whispered "and how do you know that, Potter?") from Malfoy. Only two more. Two more. But he couldn't remember them. "And then . . . er . . . if it's added to . . . erm . . . to . . . if it's added to, er . . . " _Why_ did he have to choose now to blank out, right after the aphodisiac comment? "Sleeping potions!" Harry yelled suddenly. (Even Snape almost jumped.) "If you add it to a sleeping potion, depending on the amount you'll either turn the potion into a concentrate or a poison, and it's used in certain complex healing serums to help close wounds by compounding the taker's own blood." The last two had been easy. Maybe he could get through this after all.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Now if you would kindly pay attention instead of drawing miniature -" Snape turned Harry's notes upside down so he could better see the aimless doodles Harry hadn't even been aware he was creating - "miniature wolves and random lumped-up scribbles all over your notes, I will not be compelled to ask you any more questions, do we have an understanding?" Harry nodded.

* * *

Harry relished the fifteen minute break after Potions - even though he couldn't go to the courtyard (it was too far away to make it back to the dungeons in time), he could walk around and begenerally nonproductive for awhile. Then he remembered the question he had to ask the Potions Master. Harry approached the massive desk with a good deal of trepidation. "Erm - excuse me - Professor Snape?" 

Snape raised his head from where it was bent, correcting summer essays. "Yes, Potter -" dark eyes scanned the classroom and, seemingly, even the corridor beyond -"Harry?"

Harry almost jumped from the familiar use of his name. "Er - well - it's about my schedule." He forgot to add the qualifier at the end, but Snape either didn't notice (not particularly likely) or was choosing to let Harry off easy for once (well, twice, seeing as Harry'd not been penalized for being late that day).

"What about it?"

"Er . . ." Harry wasn't sure how to address the problem.

"Let me see it." Harry handed his schedule over and then, in a burst of semi-confidence, semi-frustration, pointed to the class labelled "Dark Arts." "There isn't really a Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, is there, Professor?"

Snape employed a tactic Harry had rarely seen except from Remus - blinking once, slowly, and then glancing in several directions as though his thoughts had run away, like sheep, and he had to gather them up into a bunch - herd - whatever it was called- before he did anything else. Finally he closed his eyes again and spoke. "The class does not teach the actual Dark Arts, Harry." Snape opened his eyes. "It is an elective class - though one that is highly recommended for people aiming to become Aurors or mediwitches or wizards, among several other professions. It may only be taken during your N.E.W.T. years, and it is open only to people who have received an O or higher on their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s. You must also have at least five letters of recommendation from your professors and permission from a parent or guardian, and then you must be approved by the Headmaster. The Dark Arts class walks a very fine line between what is accepted by the Ministry as teachable, and what you need to know as part of a very unkind real world." Snape stood. "You'd better find a seat. Class is starting in -" he eyed an hourglass set into the wall -"just under a minute."

* * *

Most of the rest of Harry's day was fairly uneventful. Potions Theory - as the name suggested - was mostly notes, notes, notes, and - for a little bit of variety - notes. It had the potential to be worse than History of Magic. Yet somehow Snape managed to make it interesting. The man was a born storyteller, sprinkling even the orientation (the first day, in other words) with small yarns related to previous classes, his own time as a student at Hogwarts, and even - once - Remus (Although the actual reference was somewhat grainy, referring only to "a sleepyhead like Lupin with a bed head to match" when trying to describe a rather eccentric Potions Master from the 1700s). Even Harry had to laugh at that one - Remus did have a tendency to go around looking like the other half of his brain hadn't quite woken up yet. Lunch consisted of the usual - gossip, an argument between Ron and Hermione, Quidditch discussion, and vegetable stew.

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts was far more exciting than most classes had the right to be on the first day, though Harry felt quite badly about the form the excitement had come in. Remus had set up the basic guidelines and syllabus, and was in the middle of a preliminary theory lecture on mind-control curses when Malfoy had stood up and raised his hand. "Excuse me . . . _Professor_, I have a question." 

Remus turned around from where he was drawing a rough diagram of the human brain on the blackboard. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered at him. "I was only wondering, _sir_, how you can possibly lecture us on the workings of the human brain when you've never experienced its full effects?"

Even the Slytherins looked stunned. Several Gryffindors were clearly restraining themselves from jumping up and tearing Malfoy to pieces. Remus merely smiled at him pleasantly, but Harry saw the steel-knife glint in the golden-amber spheres that said Malfoy was going to regret that. "Mr. Malfoy . . . at least I have a fully effective brain, unlike some people I know. Now, do you mind allowing me to finish? I'd be most happy to extend your class period at nine o'clock tonight by as many minutes as you have wasted, but I see no reason to penalize your classmates for your poor choice in words and actions. Sit down, please."

Malfoy gaped at him. Dean Thomas whistled appreciatively, and Remus began explaining the diagram. Malfoy used an even louder tone than previously, though he was now addressing the room at large. "This school's gone so downhill since my father was here. Now they're practically _asking_ the animals to teach, don't you know. We've got three of them now (3)."

Remus turned around much more sharply. Harry was all but terrified by his guardian's eyes. It occurred to him that he'd never seen Remus really and truly angry - and he knew he was about to. Like both Snape and Umbridge, Remus did not raise his voice when he was angry. Instead, it became dangerously low - yet every word was clear and concise. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe I told you to sit down."

"I don't have to listen to an animal."

Remus' eyes snapped shut, and he gripped the edge of the desk so hard his fingers turned white. Harry was expecting him to really let loose now, cut Malfoy so deeply the words themselves would become razorblades - but then Neville, of all people, stood up, facing the arrogant blonde across the room. His voice wavered slightly, but he wasn't backing down.

"Why don't you just shut up, Malfoy? Professor Lupin taught me more in six months than all the other Defense teachers we've had combined, and if you think he's not worth listening to just because he's different then maybe you shouldn't be at Hogwarts either. After all, weren't you bragging about taking the Dark Mark as soon as you can Apparate? There's a set of animals for you. They even crawl on all fours and slobber."

Harry was stunned. He wasn't sure when Neville had learned to twist daggers like that, but it was scary. It seemed to have the opposite effect on Remus, though, who opened his eyes, relaxing slightly. Here was a situation he could control, one he knew how to deal with.

"Neville, sit down. Mr. Malfoy - I'm not asking again." Malfoy remained standing.

"Very well, then."

Remus scribbled a note on a piece of parchment (in spite of the seriousness of the situation, Harry was slightly amused to see him still using a gel-ink ballpoint instead of a quill), strode briskly toward Malfoy's desk, and forced the Slytherin to take it.

"I'm quite certain Professor Snape will be very happy to explain to you just exactly why you should be listening to an animal. Out. And don't think I won't know if you don't go to his office, now." Malfoy had one foot out the door when Remus called to him. " And Mr. Malfoy - just so you know, if your Head of House is unable to make it perfectly clear to you, Mr. Filch will be more than willing to remedy the situation."

Malfoy paled. He'd only ever had detention involving Filch once, and he'd been led into the middle of the Forbidden Forest to serve it. At night.

Remus had continued teaching, but there was no doubt the encounter had unnerved him - he even half-jumped when Lavender Brown (who was nursing a bad case of hay fever) sneezed loudly, and then he looked furious with himself. Harry stayed after class to find out if Remus was going to be all right - he knew just how badly comments like that could hurt his favorite professor - but Remus had brushed him off, stating that he really didn't feel like talking about it.

* * *

Harry's Dark Arts class was - as were the rest of his classes that day - full of notes, although Snape assured the class (twelve people in size) that there would be practical work as well. The two hours sped by, in fact, in spite of the fact that by the end Harry's arm was aching from a marathon day of notes. It was in that state that he trudged to dinner, filled himself, and then left, not really caring to hear Remus' battle of wits with Malfoy reiterated again and again, and exaggerated in as many ways as possible (several second years from Hufflepuff swore that Malfoy was in the hospital wing, recovering from a nasty Lockjaw Hex, but one of the more irritated - and foolish - Slytherin fourth years revealed that Malfoy was in fact in the Slytherin dormitories, sulking). Determined to finish his homework - Sirius' death had lit an even brighter, more dangerous fire in Harry's heart, and Harry was by now completely determined to become an Auror and rid the world of Bellatrix Lestrange once and for all - Harry marched up to the Room of Requirement, knowing that nobody would find him there.

* * *

Remus slammed the door to Severus' office so loudly that even the perpetrator of the noise was startled. "Sorry." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Bad day, I assume?"

"Terrible." Remus flopped down on a couch sitting along the wall and hugged a pillow to his stomach. "I don't remember having this much trouble in my entire first year here, much less a single day."

"Do I even want to ask what happened?"

"Probably not."

Severus fought a quick battle between the wish to know what was going on - he'd seen Remus lose just about everything he had and merely shrug it off, embracing it as a chance to start over - and the wish to appear unconcerned. Remus, after all, wasn't the only one capable of having a bad day. On the other hand, the blonde was normally calm and unflappable. Then again, Severus had indulged in the occasional temper tantrum when he'd had -

Oh, to hell with it.

"I don't suppose you'd be terribly insulted if I asked anyway." He moved to sit next to Remus on the couch.

Remus closed his eyes, clearly worn out. "Well, to start with, I had five Slytherins show up late for my first class - a bunch of third years - and every time I said something they could relate to lycanthropy in some way - even the stupidest things, like telling everyone to pack up at the end of class - pack being the operative word there - they'd howl. Not loudly, mind you, but loudly enough for the entire class to hear. And the worst of it was, I couldn't even catch them doing it, so I couldn't tell them off for it. It's a childish way to get kicks out of someone else's problems."

"That wouldn't happen to be the group with the boy who looks like he swallowed a Quaffle, would it?"

"Those are the ones."

"Don't even waste your time on them, Remus. They've been making ridiculous bat noises behind my back ever since they got here. They're a member of that small and elite clique that still subscribes to the belief that I'm a vampire. Disciplining them only makes them worse. Ignore them. Or better still, use a scare tactic. Give them detention on a full moon night. Ignore them all class period and then collar them at the end. I'm sure you could come up with something creative. I told them they could clean the blood off the floor of the Potions classroom once, and they haven't bothered me since."

"That wasn't very nice, Severus."

"It's not like I lied to them. I just didn't tell them a vial got spilt when the sixth years were working on the Imperius Potion. Let them fill in the gaps however they like. It's the most effective punishment you'll ever be able to give them."

Remus shrugged. "At least you don't get called an animal four times in a day. By a Ravenclaw, even."

"The Chang girl."

"Who else? She's got it in for me, I swear. When she was in fourth year she used to do her other homework when I was giving lectures, and when I tried to call her on it she'd say she was taking notes and then - I don't know how on earth she did it - I'd go pick up the parchment, and it would be exactly that. Notes. Even though I could see the second textbook sitting open on her lap. And she's back at it again. Today I was trying to explain derivatives of the Unforgivable Curses and she asked me if someone could get a life sentence in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable on me, since I'm not classified as human."

Severus said something unrepeatable about Cho Chang, and Remus shook his head. "I guess that could be considered an honest question, although she certainly could have worded it much more politely. Malfoy really took the cake, though."

"He has detention tomorrow."

Remus smiled weakly. "I'd have preferred to - well, I guess I couldn't have, anyway. But I've heard he makes a wonderful ferret."

Severus actually laughed at that one - loud, and long - and then stopped abruptly as Remus brushed his hair back absentmindedly, revealing a large bruise on his forehead, so deep it appeared almost red and purple instead of black-and-blue.

"What the hell is this?" Severus reached out and touched it gingerly. Remus winced.

"It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like 'nothing,' Remus."

"Don't worry about it."

"You look like you took a Bludger to the head, and I'm supposed to not worry about it?"

"It'll heal."

"Remus . . ."

Remus sighed heavily. "Peeves pushed me down the Grand Staircase when I was going down to dinner tonight."

Severus swore again. "Somebody has to do something about that damned poltergeist. He's been getting unbelievably violent lately."

"I was thinking about talking to the Bloody Baron."

Severus raised his eyebrows again. When they'd been in school, Remus' fear of the Bloody Baron had been almost as great as his fear of failing any of his classes (and seeing as Remus had been practically Hermione incarnate, that was saying something). Remus leaned forward and rested against Severus' chest. "I'm just glad I had somewhere to go after all that. I can't imagine having to just go back up to my rooms and try to forget about it. I don't think I'd have slept at all."

"It does sound like one hell of a day." Severus slipped his arms hesitantly around Remus' waist, and the smaller man sighed, closing his eyes again, but this time in contentment instead of frustration.

"I suppose I really shouldn't have dumped everything on you like a load of dead lacewings."

"Everyone needs someone to talk to once in awhile."

"What do you suppose would happen if Malfoy walked in here right now?" The question sounded innocent enough, but if Severus tilted his head down just a little he could see the mischievous grin playing around the corners of Remus' mouth.

"I'd threaten to tell his girlfriend about - well, I'm sure he'd know what I'm talking about. He'd never breathe a word."

Remus tilted his head backward in puzzlement. "Come on, you can't keep a secret like that from me."

"Yes I can."

"No, you can't!"

"Remus . . . did you hear a single word of what I said earlier about filling in the gaps?"

Remus' eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "Severus, that's _terrible_!"

"Do you know how many students in this school think I know every single thing that goes on in their heads because of statements like that (4)?"

"That's not very nice, Severus."

"That's survival. If you want to survive students who are out only to see what they can get over on you, you'd better learn how to do it. Quickly. Or you'll soon find yourself turned into a doormat by the students who didn't know you last time you were here and who are only too happy to prove they can break you."

"That's a comforting thought."

"I can think of a more comforting one." He turned Remus' face gently and leaned forward. Remus closed his eyes. Severus shifted his weight to his other leg and slipped an arm around Remus' waist.

Neither spoke again for a long time.

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) It's an error in the books that the school year always begins on Sunday, September 1, and classes always begin on Monday, September 2. So giving JKR the benefit of the doubt and saying that last year (Fifth Year for Harry) did indeed begin on a Sunday, this year (Sixth Year) would begin on a Monday and classes would begin on a Tuesday. I could have gone back through and done the math to find out what day it should ACTUALLY be, but I'm too lazy for that.

(2) This issomething I based directly on truth- we must have salt in our blood to live, but the balance is a delicate one. If you don't believe me, prick your finger and taste a drop of blood. You'll taste the salt in it.

(3) Malfoy would be referring to Remus (werewolf, DADA), Firenze (centaur, Divination), and Hagrid (half-giant, giants being classified as "beasts" in the Wizarding world, Care of Magical Creatures).

(4) For example, in the first movie, when he asks what Harry and his friends are doing inside, concluding with"people will think you're . . . _up_ to something" (or,roughly translated to Spanish according to the DVD, "people will think you've put your hands in it"),Harry and Co. automatically assume that Snape knows they're going after the Stone, when in fact he probably knows nothing of the kind - in all likelihood, he was merely breaking up a group standing in the hallway. Reread the books looking specifically for "fill-in" statements like that, you'll find he makes them _all the time_.


	16. 15: On Lycanthropy

**LINER NOTES: **

I apologize right now for the cliffhanger at the end of this one. It's midnight here as of the time I'm posting this, but I'm already

working on the next chapterwith the hopes I can finish it and get it posted before either a) 2 am or b) the time I fall asleep. I

feel terrible for leaving you all right here, but at the same time . . . I think it's a wonderful cliffhanger and my chapters have

been getting longer since I started writing in WordPad, so I don't feel _too _guilty . . .

**DISCLAIMER: **Fright Night is MINE, do you understand? MINE! I CREATED IT! IT IS MIIINNEE! (But you notice

I'm not laying claim to anything else.)

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13** for **heavy language.  
**

REVIEWS:

ThePurpleEmperor: I'm quite flattered, Sho! Honestly, I am. I try to emulate Rowling's writing style, right down to the habit

of throwing in clues and puzzles ranging from the blatant to the unbelievably obscure (NOTE: People who care might want to

go back a couple of chapters and think very, very carefully about Tonks' work partner, Ferrum, and perhaps look his name

up on Google or MSN. I guarantee you'll see him again), and I, too, take notes - my copies of Goblet of Fire and Order of 

the Phoenix were the first I started taking notes in when I started writing fanfiction, and they're positively shameful. Today I

even bought the ultimate clue guide to Harry Potter in the hopes of laying bare some mysteries that have puzzled me, and

perhaps even being able to create some more of my own . . . taking notes might be a good idea on your part, not just for this

story but for the next book - July 16th is much closer than it seems! (I keep telling myself that so I won't go crazy.)

**Eleonora1: **Yes, Malfoy's a right little beast, isn't he? He's going to find himself in far more trouble before too long, but

unfortunately his abuse of Remus has only begun. (Come on, I've gotta torture the poor guy somehow or it'd just seem too

much like a fuzzy faerie tale.) At least I didn't turn Remus into a panda and then seemingly drop the storyright when it started

to get good-get the hint-I revised the last chapter - it does in fact end with a kiss, but apparently I shadowed it too much. I

was trying to focus on what surrounds it (comfortable silence, a gentle touch, peacefulness, romanticism, loss of frustration)

instead of on the kiss itself, but in the process I lost it. It's my own personal philosophy that love and a hot cup of tea are the

best remedies for almost anything (although unfortunately that won't do too much for Remus in the next chapter - er, forget I

said that, would you please?), and I was drawing on that belief when I crafted the last bit. If it's still too fuzzy, emailme (or

cuss me out in your next review, I guess that works too) and I'll see what I can do. Comprende? You're gonna love what

Harry finds out about the letters of recommendation, and why he'll warm up to Severus at last, in the next chapter or two (I'm

not sure exactly where it's gonna fit), I guarantee it!

Dedicated, of course, to **Eleonora1**, **ImmortalFlick**, and my best friend, **Alicia**.

As always . . . enjoy!

.:Haruka:.

* * *

Dinnertime at last. The last Friday in September had also been Harry's first Quidditch practice, in addition to being the first

practice under the new Captain, Alicia Spinnet (1). Harry looked up as Remus tapped a knife against his waterglass. "Excuse

me, everyone! I have an announcement to make . . . " The hall fell silent (Remus seemed to have somehow picked up on

Dumbledore's amazing ability to quiet everyone just by standing up and leaning his weight against the table). Dumbledore

smiled and popped a lemon drop into his mouth as Remus continued. "I'm going to apologize to the other teachers for boring

them to death momentarily, since they're all perfectly aware of the background information I'm about to give you, but it is

quite important for all of you to hear."

Remus took a deep breath and continued. "When I was here as a student, there was a yearly tradition known as Fright Night.

Roughly speaking, Fright Night was a dance and party sort of thing held on Halloween in the Great Hall. It was sort of a nice

one-night break between the start of school andChristmas. Everybody dressed up, everybody had fun. Unfortunately, about

two years after I graduated a nasty and potentially life-threatening prank was pulled at Fright Night, and it was discontinued."

Remus paused and looked around at everyone. "I'm proud to announce that this year, with help from several of your other

teachers and a few discreet students, Fright Night will be returning."

Several people cheered and whistled, and scattered applause sounded throughout the Hall. Remus held his hand up for

silence. "I must impress upon all of you the fact that we can only continue this tradition with respect, a small amount of

maturity and consideration from you, the student body, however. Costumes may not be particularly revealing, nobody is

allowed to bring alcohol, and general school rules must be followed. Otherwise its fate is sealed. Everyone is required to

dress up, though your costume does not have to be at all elaborate. Satirizing teachers or other authority figures is acceptable

if it is done tastefully. And in keeping with the tradition of the original Fright Night, there is a costume theme. This year we

have determined that everyone must wear a mask that in some way completes or compliments your costume, and it must be

worn on the face and cover at least both of your eyes. It must also be removable, as you will be taking your mask off at

midnight. I would advise that you keep your costume fairly simple, as the dinner will begin promptly at six o'clock, and I do

believe that's everything." Remus glanced for a moment at the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall before nodding and

sitting down, and chatter began again at all four student tables, though this time it was chatter of a very different vogue.

* * *

Harry had one of the nastiest shocks of his life the next day as he entered Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus was sitting

stiffly behind his desk, his jaw clenched, hands clasped together so tightly that his fingers were white, eyes blazing angrily.

Harry looked around for the cause of Remus' anger, and saw it sitting in a corner wearing an ugly black hair bow and a

disgusting pink cardigan and carrying a clipboard. Harry couldn't believe it.

Dolores Umbridge.

Harry put his homework on Remus' desk and greeted his guardian with a sunny "Hello, Remus," prompting Remus to look up,

grin back, and reprimand Harry gently. "Harry, I've told you, you can't call me Remus in a classroom setting. It's not

appropriate."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry Re- er, Professor."

Remus shook his head goodnaturedly and told Harry to go find a seat. Slowly the rest of the class trickled in, and then Remus

stood, moving in front of his desk, still seeming like their friendly, slightly fatherly professor in spite of the tension still clearly

outlined on his face. "Good morning, everyone." 'Everyone' responded with a chorus of greetings ranging from a "Good

morning" in return to "What's up, Professor?" to a simple "Hmmphho" from Neville, who was trying to dig his homework out

of his bag. Finally he extracted it, hurried up, and placed it on Remus' desk, returning promptly and smartly to his seat. Remus

picked up the stack of parchments now sitting on the corner of his desk. "So, everyone, as you know, we're continuing our

werewolf unit (2) today "

"Hem, hem."

Remus turned as though he'd just realized Umbridge was there. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude of me - I forgot to mention we

have a guest with us today. Miss Dolores Umbridge will be observing the class, so I'd ask you all to refrain from blowing

anything up today."

The entire class laughed - this was an in-joke involving an anecdote Remus had shared about trying to blow up Moaning

Myrtle's toilet when he was in fourth year, just to see what she (Myrtle) woulddo. Umbridge raised her eyebrow slightly, but

didn't comment - nor did she write anything on her clipboard. Remus flicked through the parchments in his hands, checking

quickly to make sure everyone had turned in the questions he would be answering in class today. Remus closed his eyes, and

Harry knew what the problem was before Remus even opened his mouth.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't have your homework assignment."

"I didn't put it up there, _Professor._"

"Do you have it?"

"No."

"Would you please run back to your dormitory for it?"

"I don't have it."

Remus paused for a moment. "You don't have it."

"I didn't do it."

"You didn't do it." He took a deep breath, looking very much as though he were counting to ten before responding. "Why did

you choose not to do your homework, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered. "I think I answered that question on the first day of class, _Professor._"

Remus' fingers turned white where he was clenching them. "Mr. Malfoy, this is the fourth time since the class started that you

have chosen to not complete the work assigned to you. You may rest assured that the consequences will be a good deal

more than lost points or a detention this time. You may also return to your dormitory for the rest of the period. It is your own

choice if you wish not to learn on your own account, but displays like this also detract from your peers' right and ability to

learn. I will collect you at the end of the period and we will be having a small chat with your Head of House."

Malfoy sneered again, swung his bag over his shoulder, and sauntered out. Umbridge raised an eyebrow again and wrote

something on her clipboard, but Harry doubted that even she could turn such a masterful move into something negative.

Remus took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing.

"So, now - you were all asked to turn in at least one question to which you could not find the answer, and which related to the

lesson. After we -"

"Hem, hem."

Remus turned around and addressed Umbridge stiffly. "Yes, Miss Umbridge?"

"Excuse me, Professor, but do these - disturbances - happen often?"

Remus smiled ruefully - but still quite tensely. "I am afraid that some of the students have come to the conclusion that they

know more than their professor, Miss Umbridge. I try to keep problems at a minimum, of course, but there are always one or

two who insist upon creating discord." He turned back to the class. "As I was saying, after we get through these I have

something to hand out, and then I have an assigned reading for you. We'll have the quiz next class. So . . . " Remus shuffled

the parchments so nobody would know who had asked what. "I don't think I need to remind you all of my policy on so-called

stupid questions, but just to make sure - Neville, could you please remind everyone?"

Neville stood up and addressed Remus respectfully. "The only stupid question is a question asked for the purpose of

humiliating or demeaning a person, place, or experience. Every honest question asked out of a desire to learn is a good

question."

"Thank you, Neville. Now . . . " Remus extracted a piece of parchment and read the question written on it. "'Are werewolves

and vampires related?'" Remus set the parchment down on the desk as he answered. "Nobody is really sure whether or not

vampires and werewolves are related. There are definitely several similarities that bear looking into - for example, after a

werewolf's eyes will turn gold or amber after they have been bitten, and a vampire's eyes will turn silver or black with silver

for the same reason - but as of last year there was no fully conclusive evidence." Several students wrote down notes on his

comments as he pulled another sheet at random from the pile. "Do werewolves transform on a 'blue moon'?" Remus smiled.

"I've actually never had that question before. Yes, we do - and quite often the second transformation is of a greater magnitude

than a normal transformation. On a similar note, werewolves also transform - temporarily - during a total eclipse of the sun,

but if a total lunar eclipse occurs on a full moon night, there is no transformation until the eclipse has passed."

"Hem, hem."

Remus turned again, clearly fighting for patience. "_Yes,_ Miss Umbridge?"

"Forgive me for interrupting - but do you often refer to your own experience in your teaching, Professor Lupin?"

"I find that experience is the best teacher, Miss Umbridge, and as the students were informed at the Welcome Feast, I have

no qualms about answering personal questions as they relate to Lycanthropy or other subjects from which they might glean

important real-world information." He turned back to the class and pulled another parchment from the larger stack that he'd

placed back on his desk. "'Is it possible for male werewolves to carry a child as it is possible for male vampires to do?' Quite

a few werewolf/vampire questions in here. It is possible, but it's also quite rare - I believe there have been only 200 cases of

male lycanthropic pregnancy out of a 3.5 million lycanthropicpopulation worldwide in the past ten years. Usually spells or

potions must be used if a male werewolf wishes to conceive, and of course that practice is closely monitored by the Ministry

to make sure it's not abused."

"Hem, hem."

Remus clenched his eyes shut and opened them abruptly before spinning, his composure clearly spent. "Miss Umbridge, I

would be glad to answer your questions at the end of the period as I do for my students, but I do ask that people not interrupt

unnecessarily during the period or we'd never get through a lesson."

Umbridge scribbled madly on her clipboard as Remus again addressed the class.

It took most of the rest of the hour - even without Umbridge's constant interruptions, which Remus had thankfully silenced

with his comment- to get through all the questions, and then Remus pulled another stack of parchment out of his desk

drawer. "I believe it was Lavender who asked me last class what a werewolf registry form looks like, so I went up to London

this weekend and got a copy of mine - I thought it would be rather more beneficial if you could see one that's actually filled

out. Most of the categories are self-explanatory, but some of them - I mean, 'indications,' what's that supposed to mean if

you're not familiar with the subject? Coughing, sore throat, runny nose, fever?" Almost everyone laughed (even a few of the

Slytherins) as Remus passed out small piles of the sheets and instructed the people in the front rows to take one and pass the

rest back. Lavender raised her hand almost immediately. "Professor, the dates on here don't match. It says the bite was in

October of 1964 but the registration was in July of 1966."

Remus closed his eyes. "I was registered for the first time two days after I was bitten, Lavender, but I had to be reregistered

when I was six for reasons I'd rather not go into." He opened his eyes again and addressed the class at large. "I think

everything on there is mostly self-explanitory, but that could just be because I'm familiar with it by now, so if anything isn't -"

It was Alkyne Macnair (3) who destroyed Remus' anonymity. "There's two registration numbers on here, Professor."

"My registry number was changed when I was reregistered."

"But the first number starts with a seven. You weren't a seven number, were you, Professor?"

Remus tensed as Neville asked the Slytherin what was wrong with being a 'seven number.'

"Numbers starting with seven belong to wards of the Ministry. Were you adopted, Professor?"

Remus sighed shortly. "I was, yes, Alkyne. But this is the same sheet all new registering werewolves have to fill out, so I didn't

bother asking for a copy of the old one. I think it was destroyed anyway."

Several students asked other questions about the sheet, and then Remus passed out copies of a _Daily Prophet_ article relating

to the Werewolf Code of Conduct. "Now, all of you - homework for the next class, read the article and write between six

and eighteen inches about your feelings on what you've read - no, Hermione, you can't write more than eighteen

inches,there's a reason I put a maximum on it- whether or not you feel the regulations are fair, if and how they could be

improved, and how they affect the rest of the world, both Wizarding and Muggle. You may use outside resources if you

choose so you can gain a better understanding of the Code. Don't forget to study for the quiz. Harry, Hermione, Gregory -"

Remus indicated Goyle -"A word after class, if you wouldn't mind." The three nodded.

Three or four students came up to Remus' desk to ask questions, and then Hermione went to confer with the professor. She

nodded a few times over the parchment Remus was showing her, smiled, blushed slightly, and left. Goyle approached the

desk. Remus spoke with him briefly, received a sullen nod in reply, and, as Remus gave the stout boy a stern look, a book

was pressed into his hand - the book he'd mentioned that day on the train, with the illegal spells in it. Harry had very few

doubts as to why Goyle had wanted it - for Malfoy, most likely. Harry moved up to the desk. Remus smiled at him. "Here,

Harry, I finally finished looking this over for you." Remus handed Harry the Master thesis he was already working on in an

attempt to gain a Master in Defense Against the Dark Arts (and a leg up as an Auror, incidentally). "It's quite good for a first

draft, but you might want to consider revising your style some - it's a bit rough - and I made a comment or two on it for you.

And Harry - if you're still looking for research materials, you might want to try the Tower Library. I used several of the books

there for my own Master thesis." Harry nodded and grinned. "Get along to lunch, now."

"Sure. Thanks, Professor." Remus smiled at him.

"That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

It was only after he'd left the classroom that Harry realized he had no idea where the Tower Library was.

* * *

"Well, that went as well as could possibly be expected," Remus informed Severus ruefullyas they both sat down for lunch in

the Great Hall. "There are very few people in this world that I really and truly hate, Severus, and even fewer women I'd ever

say a word against, but I feel no qualms about telling you I absolutely _despise_ that bitch."

"Point taken," Severus countered as he spooned some shepherd's pie onto his plate. "The woman dared to question a syllabus

that's been honed by more than two hundred years' worth of Potions Masters, forget myself, because she was afraid students

might learn something potentially useful in the real world. Where does she get off, trying to foist her own ridiculous ideas on a

school that's been run quite well without her for the past thousand years?"

Remus shook his head moodily and stirred some sugar into his tea. "I don't know, but I don't think I'll be here much longer.

She spent a good twenty minutes going on about werewolves and the Lycanthropy Public Protection Act - apparently she's

not too happy that the Wizengamot overturned it after what she pulled here last year. I guess a lot of the laws she wrote up

are under review right now. But I have this awful feeling she's going to find a way to get me pulled out of here."

"Over my dead carcass."

"No, Severus, I'm serious - the way she stared at me all class period "

"I already told the Minister he can start trying to find a new Potions Master for Dumbledore if you get sacked with hidden

accusations used to utilize a clause that was overturned almost four months ago. I made that mistake once."

Remus stared at him in shock. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"You told him you'd quit if I was sacked on some overinflated incompency charges that were really being used to mask their

true intentions?"

"Essentially."

"But - why? You -"

"I told you. I made that mistake once. I allowed my own prejudices to get in the way of my common sense. You're a damned

good teacher, Remus, and it would be a hell of a shame to lose you."

Remus grinned wryly. "Shouldn't use that kind of language in front of the students, Severus."

"This coming from a man who calls Dolores Umbridge a bitch. Not that I don't agree with you, mind, but that's really the

cauldron calling the cooking pot black."

"Severus?"

"Mmm?"

"Merlin, now you're starting to sound like me."

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up and eat your chicken."

* * *

Ten days later Remus got a letter by owl. He read it and stood up so quickly he knocked over his hot chocolate. "Oh, that

_bitch._" He hadn't realized until he said it that his voice had carried to even the students farthest away in the corners, as

evidenced by the students staring at him from every table. Then again, he didn't really care. By order of the Minister of Magic,

he had fourteen days to resign.

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) Angelina, the captain in OotP, was in the same year as Fred and George Weasley - therefore, she would have graduated

at the end of OotP. After some careful research, I haven't found any indication that Alicia was in Seventh Year in OotP.

However, if she was, please email me and I will change the Captaincy (errors annoy me).

(2) For those who will argue that Severus covered werewolves with this class in their third year, he only taught ONE CLASS

on werewolves - so obviously they didn't go into great detail, plus Remus told them all they didn't have to do the essay

Severus assigned. Therefore, it makes perfect sense to me that Remus would choose to do them again - in addition, it would

also make sense that they would cover the basics when they were younger, and do a more involved unit in later years - much

as many 4th and 5th graders learn about the Civil War in the US, but then in 9th or 10th grade do a huge unit that covers

much more, in much more detail.

(3) Although this Macnair is indeed an OC (sorry - I couldn't buy the theory that there are only 4 boys in Slytherin in Harry's

year) who is the son of Macnair the Death Eater/Ministry executioner, he's not at all like his father - unlike most Slytherins,

this one is usually cruel without meaning to be, as he shows so well here. He's really a pretty good kid who just got Sorted

into Slytherin because the Hat didn't know where else to put him, so it followed his family's history.


	17. 16: On Hallowe'en

**LINER NOTES:  
**

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I WAS DONE! DONE, YOU HEAR! EDITING FINISHED! REVIEWS ANSWERED!

AND THE COMPUTER DELETED IT! GAAHHHHH-breathes heavily to regain composure- Okay, okay . . .I'm not

answering Eleonora's review AGAIN . . . it took me half an hour to answer it . . . and little girls need to be going to bed, cos

they're sick and it's late . . .

**DISCLAIMER: **JKR would be eating this bowl of ice cream without worrying about getting fat, because she can take care

of it. Contrariwise, my life savings amounts to eighteen dollars and change.

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13** for **language.**

**REVIEWS:  
**

**Miss Anonymous hp: **All I can say is, well spotted.Macnair replaced Nott in the third(final) draft of this chapter, after I

realized that we have no idea what Nott Sr. does for a living. MacnairSr, of course, is an executioner for the Ministry - which

ishow his son knew about the "seven numbers" beingMinistry wards.

**ThePurpleEmperor: **Sorry, I'm sorry! I . . . no I'm not. You're enjoying it. That much is clear. And I assure you: your notes

are NOT worse than mine. Example: When Harry says "Why do I have to study Occlu- thing?" in OotP, there's a note in the

margins that says "Terribly articulate, isn't he? Why can't he ever talk straight when Snape is around?" (Yes, when I'm done

with "Bottle of Ink" or when I get more time on my hands, I'll be starting a Harry/Severus. How did you guess?) When you

start writing in-jokes to yourself in your margins, we'll get together and set up a support group.

**Nightshade-013: **I do enjoy original fiction (sometimes), but it's one thing I won't beta - I tend to be far too harsh. (No

wonder I like Snape so much.) It might be a few days before the next chapter gets out, as I'll have work to catch up on . . .

**Eleonora1: **I'll fully answer your review later in an email (I promise), but I do have a couple things I want to answer here: 1.

Remus clearly states that the life-threatening prank occurred after he graduated, therefore it was definitely NOT the Shrieking

Shack. 2. Severus will be giving Remus the "mysterious object" at some point very soon, though you won't find out why until

after the de- er, after January in the BoI universe. Remus' note from Severus? Irrelevant and highly inappropriate. (Suffice it to

say there's a reason we never find out - I know there are a lot of young people reading this story.) The Forest is no longer

completely forbidden for several reasons, but yes, one of them is because of Remus. (The centaurs will be shifting slowly to

join the humans in the fight against Voldemort, as well.)

As always, this story is dedicated to **Eleonora1**, my best friend **Alicia**, and **ImmortalFlick, **though I'm not currently too

happy with her because "Unwanted or Improper" has yet to be updated!

Enjoy!

.:":.Haruka.:":.

* * *

Disbelief met Harry's statement when the Gryffindors all gathered after dinner.

"What?"

"No way, Harry!"

"You've got to be _joking._"

It was Hermione's next comment that prompted the Gryffindors from stunned disbelief into action mode. "We have to do

something about this."

"Bloody damn right we do!"

"We can't lose Professor Lupin to the bloody _Minstry_, like they know anything to begin with."

"We don't have to put up with this!"

"Professor Lupin shouldn't have to put up with this."

"But what can we do?"

* * *

"Here, Michael, do you want to sign this?"

Michael Corner read the petition that was circulating the breakfast tables. "Sure. Want me to pass it down our table so you

can go back to breakfast, Parvati?"

"Sure, thanks, Michael."

Michael Corner's signature was number four hundred and seventy nine on the petition to remove Remus Lupin's Ministry

order of resignation.

* * *

"Excuse me, Professor?" Minerva McGonagall looked up from the stew she was eating for lunch - not that she had much

appetite.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Um - do you want to sign the petition?" Professor McGonagall furrowed her brows.

"What petition is this, Miss Granger?" Hermione handed her the quill and clipboard. Professor McGonagall read the statement

across the first page of the parchment and flicked through the several pages of signatures before adding her own in space six

hundred and thirty two and passing the clipboard to Pomona Sprout, who was sitting right next to her.

* * *

It stunned everyone that Remus was still almost completely oblivious to the rebel movement going on all around him. Though

he was aware of a petition being circulated to prevent his sacking, he had no idea how many people had signed it - until

Severus signed it, commenting (more to himself than anyone) "I'd never have believed they'd have more than seven hundred

signatures in two and a half days." Remus scrambled to pull the clipboard around, and stared at the pages with signatures

ranging from little more than scrawls all the way up to elegant calligraphy. He was even more stunned to see several Slytherin

names on the pages without even looking for them. Then Severus passed the clipboard on to Flitwick. Remus didn't eat

anything more. He wasn't entirely sure he could remember how to close his mouth.

* * *

Twelve days after Remus' letter, Percy Weasley entered the office of Cornelius Fudge with a thick envelope. "Sir, I think

perhaps you should have a look at this."

In the time since Remus received his letter, a group of five students had collected sixteen hundred and eighty one signatures

from students, staff, and parents.

The Ministry couldn't discount the validity of the petition, even though about half the people who'd signed it were underage.

Fudge sighed angrily. "Weasley, take a letter."

* * *

Remus was pretending to eat his last breakfast at Hogwarts - he wasn't really hungry, but he didn't want to distress anyone by

appearing to not eat - when a tawny owl dropped an official-looking letter in front of him. He sighed and closed his eyes

before reaching for the envelope. He had a very good idea what was in it - or so he thought.

* * *

Everyone in the Great Hall looked up at the Head Table abruptly when there was a loud shriek and the crashing of a heavy

wooden chair. Remus had stood up so quickly he'd knocked his seat right over, and now he was staring, wild-eyed, at a

letter clenched between trembling hands. Dumbledore stood up, righted Remus' chair, and then gently pulled the parchment

from the slightly hysterical man's hands. He coaxed Remus back into his chair, returned to his own seat, read the letter

through twice, and then stood again. Silence reigned throughout the hall.

"I am pleased to inform you all," Dumbledore announced, "that your efforts as a unified group have paid off. The Ministry has

withdrawn Professor Lupin's order of resignation."

The Creevey brothers were the first to respond, breaking into applause. Remus' sister Melody followed them, and then a

dark-haired, dark-skinned girl from the Ravenclaw table stood up with a shout of "You go, Remus!" Remus blushed as most

of the Hall followed the four upstarts into applause and appreciative whistles. The common goal they'd succeeded in had done

something Dumbledore had been trying to do for many years - Remus had united them all.

* * *

Tonight, the Halloween dance. Harry felt a bit stupid - he hadn't been able to think of a costume, so he was going as a Light-

Shadow. His mask was full-face, and painted black and white in four quarters. The rest of his outfit was split similarly - one

half of his shirt white, one half black, and the trousers done the same way in reverse. He added a black glove (and a white)

one and shoes (both black) beneath a black robe and a white necktie. Well, it could have been worse. Hermione had made

the mask, so the two halves of the face looked like half of one of the comedy/tragedy theater masks. One half was laughing,

the other crying. He supposed maybe he could survive this unscathed.

* * *

Harry wanted to get down to the Great Hall early for two reasons - one, nobody had been able to find out the name of the

band playing that evening, but it was rumored that Dumbledore, Flitwick and McGonagall had been changing the wards on

the castle. Secondly, he wanted to see what Severus was wearing. He knew the Potions Professor would be there. He'd said

so, though he was really only going because he had to. Harry wondered if he'd spend his night sulking in the cornstalk maze

(1) outside the front doors like what he'd done at the Yule Ball in Harry's fourth year. This question was quickly answered

when Harry walked directly into a man wearing a costume he recognized instantly as the Phantom of the Opera, complete

with a mask that covered the left half of his face and his right eye.

"Might I request that you watch where you're going, Potter?" The voice was unmistakeable.

"Er - sorry, Professor," Harry responded, but he grinned as he turned away to go sit at one of the many tables scattered

throughout the Great Hall. He was quickly joined by Remus, Severus, and three people Harry didn't recognize (their masks

covered too much). The rest of the table was soon filled by Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

* * *

"I'm sitting in the middle of a crowd of bloody Gryffindors," Severus informed Remus superfluously, clearly trying only to

appear disgusted (he wasn't really). Harry was hard pressed to determine just who, exactly, Remus was supposed to be.

He'd charmed his hair to his shoulders and then to a shade of dark brown. He had a black silk eye mask on his face, black

gloves on his hands, a rich red cape, black pants, a white shirt under a black vest, and black button up boots. He was also

attempting to speak with a thick Spanish accent.

"Ahh, but my friend, you are also sitting next to the great _Don Juan_!" Well, that answered one question. Harry had been

leaning more toward Zorro. "Surely you will admit that it is a great honor to be in the presence of such a man."

"A man who slept with more than a thousand women?"

"_Si_, my friend!" Severus shook his head. "I far prefer music to women. They're really not my type."

Everyone at the table laughed. Harry could have sworn Severus gave him a very small, wryly placed wink.

* * *

Dinner passed quickly. Tables were moved to the walls, a stage appeared, and Dumbledore moved on to it.

"Good evening, everyone." He was greeted by a general murmur of "Good evening" from the students and staff. "Tonight it is

my great honor to announce that for the first time since 1642 (2), Hogwarts is welcoming several nonmagical members of the

community. I would ask you all to give a great welcome to our guests this evening, and to enjoy the entertainment I have been

assured they will provide."

Everyone started clapping as the mystery people from Harry's table trooped up onto the stage, pulling off masks and parts of

costumes. Harry was stunned. Impossible. Completely impossible. But there they were - and then Remus came racing up on

to the stage with his usual trademark entry-line to almost anywhere: "Sorry, sorry, sorry Raven, sorry . . . " Several people

laughed, but most appeared shocked, as Remus came to a halt in front of his guitar. "Couldn't get the stupid bloody cloak off.

That's the last time I let somebody else tie it."

Raven didn't appear to be paying attention. Instead, she had her head tipped back so far Harry feared her neck might break.

"Bloody hell, Remy, where's the ceiling?"

Remus managed to catch his breath before answering. "You're looking at it, Raven. And could I ask you to keep it toned

down - _just_ a little? I do believe I mentioned I have to face most of these kids on Monday."

Raven turned her head and grinned at him evilly. The people up front all laughed. And the dance began.

* * *

"Ahhuurrrooooo!" Raven tipped her head back and let out a very mangled imitation of a werewolf cry. Remus moved up next

to her, motioning with his hands. "No, no, I keep telling you - from the _back_ more, Raven, back of the throat. Very gutteral."

"Arrouuhhhooooo?" Laughter. Remus shook his head and rolled his eyes and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "We'll

keep working on that."

"Arrooooouuuuuuu!" Raven froze. "Remy, did you hear that?" She scanned the crowd nervously.

Remus stared at her obliviously. "Hear what?"

"Arroooouuuuuuuuuuu!" Raven turned to him as the eerie sound echoed through the Hall again. "That."

Remus grinned - but it was a slightly nervous grin. "Oh, that - that's - a werewolf, actually, Raven. Forest's full of them."

Raven continued to scan the room nervously.

"Arrouuuuuuuuuu!"

"Remy?"

"Hmm?"

"That . . . that wasn't outside." Remus stared at her, openmouthed. "Are you saying _I _did that?"

"Arrrrouuuuuuuuu!"

"No . . . but . . . Remy, that's not outside." Another howl. "Remy, that's behind us."

"Oh, bloody _hell, _I'll go look for it." A slightly prickly Severus pushed past them. A door creaked on splintery hinges, and

everyone heard footsteps and more howls. Then the door slammed. And the lights went out.

* * *

Several people screamed. Then Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and pointed behind the stage as music started. "Look!"

A screen had magically appeared behind the stage, and everyone could see Raven moving through an old, abandoned

wooden house that looked suspiciously like a larger, more elaborate version of the Shrieking Shack, minus most of the

furniture. The screen shed an unearthly glow down on the stage as Remus started to sing - but he really didn't sound like

himself. This voice was younger, less trained, more spectral. On the screen, something grabbed Raven's arm - she turned,

looked into golden-red eyes, and let out a silent scream. Muted red lights shone down, dimly lighting the stage and the front of

the hall.

After several minutes of aliens and werewolves and a few zombies, Remus started reciting something in a voice that was

slightly comforting and yet frightening at the same time - he sounded almost like he did in the classroom. He moved up behind

Raven and pulled her around to face him, turning her face as he came to the end of what seemed an eerie poem. The screen

went black and showed only an evilly glowing pair of red eyes. Remus started laughing an evil, unearthly laugh. Raven

screamed.

And the room was pitched into complete blackness. (3)

* * *

A door creaked. Someone near Harry moaned, "Oh, not _again_," but then the lights flickered on and Severus appeared in

front of the stage. "It wasn't anything but a plastic. (4) You ought to be more careful with your things, Lupin." Remus and

Raven looked at each other and started laughing weakly - until a creepy organ loop played. It stopped suddenly, and from

behind the keyboard the evil Sinelle Draconn laughed at her counterparts. Instantly the room was filled with laughter, and then

Remus held up his hand. "It's ten to midnight . . ." He struck a chord, announced "Find your partners," and then introduced the

song. "This one, this is another old one, but it's a favorite of mine because, it's, when it first came out it really described my

mindset, the middle part really, really described it, but then I grew up a little and fell into the trap of living the other half of the

song." Laughter from everyone. "So this song, this song's called 'Scenes From an Italian Restaurant (5)' and - oh, I'm just

gonna shut it now or you'll all repay me by falling asleep in class tomorrow." Everyone laughed, and then laughed again as he

pretended to snooze on top of the microphone stand before the song started, lyrics bouncing back and forth between

everyone on the stage. Remus got the part about "leather jackets and tight blue jeans," and Harry heard Lavender and Parvati

start giggling behind him. He wasn't entirely sure why - sure, that was essentially what Remus was wearing at that exact

moment, but he didn't see why that made it funny. "Girls," Harry muttered to Ron (the pair had nixed dancing in favor of sitting

near the stage and watching), and Ron nodded fervently in agreement. The song finally came to an end, and a slow song

started. Ron got up to look for Hermione (Harry didn't have a date), but was spared the trouble when she came up and took

his hand.

* * *

"Harry, would you care to dance with me?" Harry looked up into a pair of silvery eyes - from where he was, even the first

years were taller than he was.

"Er - sure."

If anybody had told Harry two hours ago that he'd be dancing with Luna Lovegood at midnight, he'd have never believed

them.

* * *

"It's the midnight hour . . . " Remus intoned into a microphone, and Sinelle played her spooky organ music again. (Harry

suspected one of those fancy synthesizer keyboards.) All around the room, masks came off, and Harry looked down at his

dance partner to see if he'd been correct. He had been. Luna absentmindedly brushed Harry's bangs out of his eyes, and he

blinked in surprise. "You look . . . er . . . different," Harry finally managed, and Luna smiled as though it were the best

compliment she'd ever heard. "Thank you, Harry . . . I have to be getting back to my table now . . ." Luna drifted off amongst

the dancers (there was another fast number going). It was several moments before Harry remembered to sit down.

* * *

"Harry, mate, you feeling all right?" Ron sounded worried as he handed Harry a butterbeer.

"Er - fine. Say, Ron, if I told you I danced with Luna Lovegood, would you say I was crazy?"

Ron didn't even consider. "Absolutely, mate. Lovegood's been sitting at that table -" Ron pointed across the room, to where

Harry could barely see a mass of blonde hair with cat's ears sticking out of it - "all night."

"Er - right," Harry managed. That wasn't possible, was it?

* * *

"Well everyone, hey!" Raven pulled the microphone from Remus' hand. "All right, everyone, you know what they say in

Mexico - we're not here for a long time, we're here for a good time (6), and like we say, it's time for the last dance . . . Last

Dance, Remy, did you - Remy? Remus . . . _Re_-mus . . . " Raven waved a hand in front of Remus' face. He was pretending to

snooze on the microphone stand again. "Remy, one more and you can go up to your room -" Remus shook his head. "Down

to your room?" Remus shook his head again and made some kind of motion with his hand. "Down to somebody else's room?"

Remus nodded, eliciting mostly giggles from the female element of the crowd - at least, the female element old enough to

understand the reference. "Remus, tell me you're not staying down there . . . "

"Absolutely not. At least let these kids _believe_ I have morals, Raven." Again, the wave of laughter came mostly from the older

members of the group, but now it came from both genders. "Actually I am going to my own room. All - by - myself." Several

friendly-mocking "aww's" came from various people. "Of course, I never said there wasn't somebody already in there waiting

for me." Snorts and shrieks of laughter (the boys and mature girls) and giggles (the immature girls).

"Remy?"

"Yes, Raven?"

"Aren't you the one who asked me to tone it down?"

"Raven, for all you know, the someone waiting for me is a big fluffy brown puppy dog with a bow around its neck because

waking up next to something happy to see you and slobber all over youis better than waking up all alone. Now would you

care to tell me why you woke me up?" More laughs, though these again were mostly from the Lavender-and-Parvati element.

"Last dance, Remy."

"Oh, good. That means I can go home. There's no guitar in Last Dance (7)."

Raven rolled her eyes in a manner that could have been meant as affectionate. "Right, Remy. So, all of you, it's Last Dance -

thanks so much for having us tonight, it's been a blast, and we've got Sinelle Draconn on keyboards and backup, Jason Tych

on drums, Remus Lupin on lead guitar and vocals -" Remus waved from where he was carefully disassembling his guitar and

the various things attached to it - "Sonny Barton on bass guitar, I'm Raven Knight on lead vocals, and we're the Irregulars!"

Applause scattered throughout the Hall, and the Last Dance began.

* * *

Harry filtered out into the entrance hall - Remus had waited with the rest of the band to help them pack up (apparently wards

that allowed electronics to work had been placed), and Harry wanted to talk with him. Remus looked up, saw him, and

smiled. "Did you have a good time, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and then saw Snape coming out of the Hall. "Er - I guess I should get going - you guys were great."

Remus saw Severus at the same time Harry did, and smiled again. "Thank you. Have a good night, Harry."

Harry embraced his guardian briefly before all-but-floating up the Grand Staircase and down the hall toward Gryffindor

Tower.

* * *

(The very, very long) **REFERENCE NOTES:**(Sorry)

**(1)** For those who don't live in places where there are cornstalk mazes, I pity you. They're quite fun. They're

exactly what they sound like - mazes made out of cornstalks (usually still unharvested or harvested by hand so

the stalks themselves are still in the ground), the insides often decorated with elaborate displays of Draculas,

Frankensteins, demented Jack-o'lanterns, and so on. The challenge, in a truly good cornstalk maze, is getting out

- you can't see where you're going because the stalks usually range between 8 and 14 feet tall and many of the

pathways go in circles!

**(2)** Unless my History of Magic is wrong (in which case I need to go reread a few things), this was the year that

heralded the permanent split between the magical and non-magical communities.

**(3)** Can you guess what song this is? HINT: The album was released in 1982, and the song itself is quite Remus-

appropriate. Incidentally, this was the song Remus was singing in the original draft of the reveal chapter - but

because it deals with werewolves, I felt it to be too 'obvious' and ditched it.

**(4)** Severus actually means a "vinyl," and is referring to a vinyl record.

**(5) **'Scenes . . . ' is by Billy Joel and came out sometime between 1973 and 1985 (I'm pretty sure it came out in the '70s), which

would put Remus between 13 and 25 years old. Listen to the song, and you'll understand very well why it describes my

interpretation of Remus - if not himself literally, then people he may have known or his own general mindset. I transcribed

below the small chunk that got this song its place in this chapter, just in case you're interested:

Do you remember those days hangin' out at the village green?

Engineer boots, leather jackets and tight blue jeans

Oh you drop a dime in the box an' play a song about New Orleans

Cold beer

Hot lights

My sweet romantic teenage nights!

Sound like anybody we know? Yes? A little? More like Sirius than Remus? Yeah, I'd have thought so too . . . but then, you

guys don't yet know his whole history as written by me, and I do! (That triangle isn't the only tattoo he's got.) You'll know all

you need by the end of the story, though, I promise . . .

**(6)** This is true, and is part of the theory behind El Dia de Los Muertos (The Day of the Dead Ones), a day when Mexicans

honor their deceasedfriends and relatives, and is vaguelysimilar to our Hallowe'en. Just thought I'd also share where I first

heard this phrase, bringing the circle to its close - from alocal band!

**(7) **By Donna Summer. Album "The Dance Collection," 1987. This is, as implied, the last dance of the night, but

the name of the song is also "Last Dance." One of those puns I love making.


	18. 17: On Forgiveness

**LINER NOTES: **

I am so, so, so, so, so sorry! There really is a good reason it's taken me two weeks to write this - several, actually.

1. I got (majorly) sick.

2. While trying to write a particularly stubborn section, I got grounded . . .

3. And coming off grounding, I got royally sick again. (We're talking a fever of 104.8 here.)

4. Finally . . . have you seen the length of this thing? No? I recommend you look at the move-bar on the right side of your

screen . . . yes . . . that one. See? **ON AN INCIDENTAL NOTE: If you add me to your Favorites list or Author **

**Alert! list, I would appreciate it if you would send me an email so I can read YOUR work! **I have found some of my

favorite stories by checking out the accounts of the people who have added me to their own Favorites or Author Alert! lists,

but the number of people on my "Stats" list is getting too great for me to simply check everyone's name every now and again

to see who's new. Of course, this doesn't mean you HAVE to send me an email to add me to your list . . . but you never

know, if you do you might one day just end up with an email in your inbox asking if I can borrow a small implement you've

used - and then your name goes in my work as someone I've borrowed from, and believe you me, it's possible to get a LOT

of readers that way. (I've gotten a lot more emails from people on this site since Eleonora1 added me to her favorites list.) So

if you'd be so kind as to take the time . . . freesongspirit yahoo. com (without the spaces, of course)!

**OTHER ANNOUNCEMENTS: **Technically nobody would expect me to put this, I don't think, but I will because I set a

goal in the early days of "Bottle of Ink" that is no longer feasible. My original goal was three chapters per week every week

until it was done. However, I've encountered forces beyond my control (Chemistry class, occasional writer's block, limited

computer time, chores, etc.) that have made this impossible. Therefore, I'm now aiming for a target of **ONE CHAPTER **

**PER TEN DAYS.** This benefits not just me, but you all as well - when I have longer to write I am better able to indulge in

the wordplay that I love so much (and that so many people have emailed telling me they love), plus my chapters are longer

and better written overall. So don't panic if I don't update for a week or two - I will NOT be abandoning this story - in fact,

last night the PERFECT ending came to me at one o'clock in the morning and I had to get up to write it down, because I was

sure I'd forget it otherwise! (gotta love those sugar-induced dreams . . . ) However, I did feel I should let you all know that

the lag time between updates will be longer, to the benefit of everyone. (Plus it gives me more time to get more reviews. Have

I mentioned reviews are an essential part of a healthy author's diet?)

**DISCLAIMER: **Well . . . I have the insanely long wait down pat . . . and my hair IS blonde . . . (Only MINE is natural,

not out of a box . . . ) but I didn't create these characters or the universe they live in . . .

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **PG-13** for **language, homosexuality,** and **general maturity of content.**

**REVIEWS: **YIKES! **_SEVEN_** reviews! That's a record for a chapter! (Maybe I should aim for an update a week to let

my readership build . . . ? Chappies would get better, too . . . )

**GENERAL THANKS TOSummer, Nightshade-013, Ayune: **You guys are the reason I've struggled for the past two

weeks to get this out, past a massive writer's block . . . Thank Merlin the next five chapters or so are almost completely

done! (This just wormed its way in here . . . )

**Eleonora1: **I hear that a lot. No, really, I do. I'm one of the six impossible things the White Queen believed in before

breakfast (Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Saw There). Yes, the band is sticking around . . . they may be more

important than you're aware . . . -coughcough- I shouldn't've told you that. Glad you liked it . . . here, here's a new chappie,

will you stop threatening me now? Charming though your devotion is, I really don't care to be tied to this chair and forced

to write . . . it's a rather uncomfortable chair, on account of being broken . . .

**ThePurpleEmperor: **No, no - I'm saying, IN-JOKES. As in, lots of the bloody things. Plot lines that unfold right in the

lines of your copy of the canon. (I have an outline for four separate one-shots written down on a paper I taped to the back

of Prisoner of Azkaban that I put there so I wouldn't lose it . . .) I'm glad you love this so much! I actually take very little

time with the comedy scenes, and the Irregulars have come to be based more off my lunch table than being "complete"

OC's (with the exceptions of Raven and Sinelle, of course). So - I'll pass the compliment on to the gang tomorrow!

**Yulara: **-blush- Funny things like that? I don't write them. They write themselves in my head at night when I can't sleep.

(Odd solution to insomnia, but it works . . . eventually I giggle so hard I pass out.) Just set up a basic scenario and they'll

write themselves - for example, I knew that Remus was going to be constantly reminding them that he's a teacher here in an

attempt to keep the R-rated humor to a minimum - and most of the scene came out of that in twenty minutes.

**ImmortalFlick: **Yay! She read it . . . and liked it! My Remus - actually most of the main characters' personalities - are

based off different facets of me. Severus is my ironical Brit side, Remus is the most like me (right down to the way he gets

mad - but the Patented Remus Blush is courtesy of my best friend), Hermione is - well, Hermione is also like my best

friend, but Ron - poor, clueless Ron - is based off me, teasing abovementioned friend. (Poor Alicia - she puts up with so

much.) So if you like my Remus - you like me! Yay-is happy-

As always . . . dedicated to **Eleonora1, ImmortalFlick,** and my best friend **Alicia.**

Enjoy!

.:":.Haruka.:":.

* * *

Three weeks after Hallowe'en came the second Hogsmeade weekend of the school year (the first being, of course, the 

Saturday before Hallowe'en). Harry had planned to go to the Wizarding village with Ron and Hermione, but as always

lately, his plans were upset - this time by Ron, who apologetically told Harry he wanted to go alone with Hermione and

would Harry mind? Harry was thrilled that his best friends were finally learning to stop being so bloody shy around each

other and were starting to go out, but it did mean he'd be going into Hogsmeade alone - if he went at all. He briefly

considered the idea of asking Luna Lovegood to go with him, and then decided it would seem too much like a date - one

dance at Hallowe'en indicated nothing, except that she'd wanted to dance. If he knew who some of her friends were it

might have been different, but Harry only knew Ginny. He thought of going with her, and came to the same conclusion he

had with Luna. Privately he wished Fred and George and Lee Jordan and Angelina and Alicia were still around, even if they

were all older than him. It would be practically pointless to go to Hogsmeade alone.

Suddenly it occurred to him to see if perhaps Remus wanted to go - everyone was perfectly aware that Remus had become

Harry's guardian over the summer, and they'd also more than appreciated the fact that Remus was, in his own words, "a

sixteen year old who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and said 'What the bloody hell happened to me, _I have _

_laugh lines_!'" Therefore, nobody would think it odd or inappropriate for Harry to be spending a day in Hogsmeade with his

favorite adult. Remus would be perfectly good for a joke or two and a trip to Zonko's, and Harry rather fancied that

Remus' odd sense of humor would enjoy gathering the naive third-years around a table in the Three Broomsticks and telling

them all about the vicious spirits in the Shrieking Shack.

Harry turned away from the lake (he'd been brooding, having finished his breakfast long before the actual end of the meal),

preparing to go talk to Remus - when he saw the blonde in question sitting beneath the weeping willows next to another

part of the lake, his head resting on a black-clad shoulder, his arms around a similarly clothed waist. Harry felt betrayed. He

turned again, resolutely showing his back to the oblivious couple on the opposite bank, and stalked back into the castle.

* * *

Harry walked around aimlessly for almost two hours before he ran into Lisa Turpin (1), a Ravenclaw from his Dark Arts

class. They walked through the open corridor between the trophy room and the room that had held Fluffy the three-headed

dog in Harry's first year, discussing the last class that Wednesday. Snape had passed around a real dragon's-tooth

necklace, an "awesome" artifact in Ron's words and a "very rare and potentially dangerous item" in the words of Harry's

most hated professor. Lisa, whose sister was a dragon-keeper like Ron's brother Charlie, had been particularly impressed.

The tooth was close to four inches long, and was secured as an ornament by way of a leather thong wrapped in a criss-

cross around the base (the tooth hung with the sharp point facing down), tied in a knot at the top, and then continued

around as the necklace itself. Snape had given them a good deal of background on it - the displaced fang came from a

Peruvian Vipertooth, the smallest dragon known to the Wizarding world. It was one of the "purest specimens" ever created

while most dragon's teeth prepared for sale were filed (to remove the extremely sharp tip and the root of the tooth),

sanded, bleached, polished, and varnished (all of which lowered the magical potency of the tooth, according to Snape), this

particular one only had the root and the razor-sharp tip removed. Lisa had been impressed, and, she told Harry, had asked

Snape if it would be a good idea to write to her sister to find out more. In a rare show of "I-may-not-be-the-biggest-

expert-on-this-subject-and-therefore-we-should-get-outside-information," Snape had invited her to do so and had even

offered House points in exchange. "He's really changed this year," Lisa told Harry. "He even asked me if I was considering

becoming a Healer when we did Mandrake Draughts a couple of weeks ago in Potions - he's never said anything like that

to any of us before." Harry assumed she was referring to her Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff classmates, though the statement

applied to Gryffindors as well.

"I don't think he's so wonderful," Harry informed his classmate. "I mean, all right, so he's acting a bit different. He still

terrorized me for five years, a lot of the time for things I didn't even do, or he'd misplace blame. On purpose. The best thing

he ever did for me was when he cut down Umbridge last year."

This statement led to several moments of abusing Umbridge, and Harry had a particularly juicy morsel to add - her display

over Remus' teaching had caused a bit of an uproar in the Ministry, and there was a possibility she'd have to stand before

the Wizengamot for throwing her weight around one too many times in one too many wrong ways, for one too many bad

reasons. "I hope she gets Azkaban," Lisa said. "She thinks just because she's got the Minister's stamp of approval, she

owns us all. I wanted so many times, so badly, to tell her my mother is Assistant Head of the Department of International

Magical Cooperation . . . I'd love to see how she'd react to that, finding out she couldn't just - toss us around because she's

an Assistant in the Ministry. 'Oh, and Umbridge, my father is a Muggle. Does that make me a half-breed?' I should have

asked her that in class, I really, really should have . . . "

Harry laughed bitterly and showed her his scar from his detentions with the evil toad. "Not unless you want one of these."

Lisa looked sick. "She made you write lines with a _Sectumius_ Quill? (2) Why didn't you report her?"

"Do you honestly think anybody could have done anything?"

Lisa shrugged. "I suppose not . . . still . . . " She appeared lost in thought for a moment. "Well, I have to go - I promised

Professor Snape I'd let him see my sister's answer, and she wrote back to me today. You should _hear_ some of the things

they've done to dragons over the years just to get teeth - it's unbelievable! I wouldn't have believed it myself if it wasn't

listed in the Tower Library, too. See you later, Harry."

After Lisa's departure, Harry stared, brooding, at the shield listing the members of the 1977-1978 House Quidditch teams.

His father had played Seeker for two years - fourth year and fifth year - and then stepped down because he wanted to play

Chaser instead (3). Harry paused, suddenly, his eyes riveted. Gryffindor House - Seeker - Remus Lupin (Y 7). Remus

played Quidditch? Harry never knew that. Sirius was a Beater from third year until sixth year, but for some reason Harry

didn't know, he'd left the team before the first game of his seventh year. Wormtail never played. He wasn't a good enough

flyer. Harry felt a hot worm of hate burn into his stomach and nestle at the bottom, twisting around his intestines, like a

malicious strangler fig. Then he saw something else that shocked him even more than Remus as Seeker. Embedded in the

shield were photographs of the teams, and he recognized someone in the Slytherin photograph. Tall, thin, long black braid.

Two silver bracelets on his right wrist (4), silver-buttoned black boots. Large dark eyes. Harry's eyes darted to the name-

plaque for confirmation. Slytherin House - Seeker - Severus Snape (Y 7). Unbelievable.

Harry sank down next to the tall cabinet and leaned his weight against the stone base, thoughts whirling randomly in his

brain. And then -

"You really ought to ask him, you know."

Harry jumped up, eyes darting warily all around the trophy room. "Who said that?"

"I did." The voice was on the wall behind him now. Harry whirled and started. He recognised the man in the portrait -

Remus Lupin - 1379-1452. "R-R-Remus?"

The man in the portrait smiled, and Harry all but died from shock. If it hadn't been for the Shakespearean clothing, blue

eyes, and the odd haircut, Harry would have sworn he was looking right at his guardian. Even the way this man held himself

was the same. "I do not recall seeing you before, young master. It behooves you to explain your behavior."

"You - you -" Harry mouthed soundlessly. Finally, after a stern glance from the portrait, he finished lamely, "You look - I

mean - my - someone I know - he looks exactly like you."

"Your current Defense teacher, I expect."

Harry stared. "How did you -"

The portrait waved his hand through the air impatiently. "Quite simple, young master. Remus comes here quite often. But I

sense something is troubling you in regard to my many-times great-grandson (5). I would suggest you talk to the

Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore is capable of solving many a problem both academic and personal. Yours revolves in

both spheres of your life, does it not?"

Harry wasn't exactly sure how to answer - he'd never heard a portrait that talked so formally. Even the older portraits in the

main part of the castle could converse just like the students, for the most part. "Er - I guess so. Erm - why are you here,

anyway? In the trophy room, I mean?"

Portrait-Remus smiled again eerily - eerily if only because it was like looking at a Remus clone. "Many, many years ago,

Mr. Potter - oh, I would think you should not be so shocked. My descendant speaks quite frequently of you. I should be

quite remiss if I did not recognise you by now. No Lupin has ever been so foolish or unobservant. But I digress, do I not?

Many, many years ago - several hundred years by now, I am sure (6), if my heir's commentaries are any sort of reliable

indication - I was highly rewarded for removing the threat of a budding, but still highly malevolent, Dark wizard from this

school upon discovering his attempt to drown a half-blooded student. He admitted under the influence of a highly potent

Veritas Venenum cordial that he planned to remove from the school those not of pureblood descent. Sadly,

he was the heir of one of the Founders - it caused quite a scandal. Though I understand that even _his_ heir is

quite alive and well and still causing mayhem in your world today."

"Voldemort."

It was strange to see someone who actually looked _puzzled_ at the name instead of fearful (most people),

angry (Snape - there he was again, popping into Harry's thoughts like an unwanted canker sore, damn him-

and the Death Eaters), or determined (people like Dumbledore and Remus). Finally the portrait's slightly

thrown look faded, and he mused, "Yes, that may have been the name. You are familiar, then, with the

history?"

"You could say that."

Footsteps sounded outside the door. "Honored Grandfather (8), are you awake?" The voice sounded thin

and tired. Harry knew instantly who it was. He also knew he didn't want to face his guardian right now. So he

turned and headed for the other exit, but not quickly enough to miss the portraits final words: "Ask him."

* * *

Harry had to go through twenty-three separate sweets before he found the correct password to the

Headmaster's office ('Canary Creams,'), but he finally gained entrance. The headmaster was waiting for him

at the top, with the usual "Harry, my boy, how good to see you." (Harry cringed internally at the "my boy." He -

_really_ - was getting too old for that.) Dumbledore offered him a sherbet lemon, which he of course refused -

and then, trying for once to shock his elder, Harry continued, "No milk, please, Sir."

Dumbledore merely gave his patented twinkle. "Have I become that predictable in my age, Harry?" (How

had he known to drop "my boy" so quickly?)

If Harry had been a girl, he might have pouted. As he was, he merely looked slightly put out. "Even when I

deliberately _try _to leave you speechless I can't do it."

Dumbledore twinkled again. "It takes a good deal more than that to shock me, Harry." (There was the switch

again - and Harry'd been _expecting_ a "my boy" that time.) He paused to take a sip of his own tea. "I take it

you wish to see your school documents?"

Harry gaped as the headmaster pushed a file across the desk they were sitting at. "I must request that your

portfolio does not leave my office, Harry - students have been known in the past to lose important pieces of

information, some of which were never found. I believe your guardian once took his file to the Tower Library,

only to somehow misplace the documents that allowed him to attend. We took nearly three weeks searching

for them before he recalled using his Ministry acceptance letter as a placemarker in a Wizarding copy of

The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. (9) An excellent book, to be sure, but not an excellent place to

leave an important document. You are welcome to the space in front of my fire, however, if you are careful

with the records, Harry." (and he hadn't even had to use Harry's name there. It was like he'd put it in on

purpose.)

Harry sat down in front of the fire after nodding his thanks, taking a second cup of tea and the surprisingly

Mugglesque manilla folder with him. He flipped it open and surveyed the documents within carefully, one at a

time, moving them so that they never got out of order. First was a copy of his birth certificate, then a copy of

his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, followed by his first year exam results and recommendations from all his

teachers that he be allowed to continue his studies (10), with an added referendum by Snape saying that

Harry "may wish to consider" having "extended instruction" in Potions to make up for "an unusual amount of

inexperience" in the subject. (Harry could only assume this was a nice way of saying he needed Remedial

Potions because he was terrible in regular lessons - Remus hadn't been joking when he said carrying on a

normal conversation with the git practically required a dictionary.) After the letters came examples of his best

written work from the year, and then a similar pattern for his second year, though here the teachers merely

commented on his progress (neither year contained a letter from a Defense teacher, understandably). The

pattern deviated slightly then, with a list showing Harry's new classes, and then at the end Remus' letter, the

first from a Defense teacher, to the Headmaster and the Board of Governors:

It has come to my attention that Harry Potter (Y 3) shows exemplary understanding and ability in the subject

of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I would strongly suggest that Harry be permitted to test out of the class

and continue with private tutoring, which would better fit his current needs and serve to develop his natural

talents.  
-

The letter went on to discuss Harry's "outstanding" abilities (and to mention the so-called "private tutoring"

he had sought on the dementor issue) and then outlined the subjects the class had covered, highlighting how

Harry's abilities had risen above the expected Ministry standard. Harry'd read about half of it (it was close to

six inches long, a good deal when Remus' almost microscopic writing was taken into consideration) when

he lowered the parchment, deep in thought. Remus had thought that much of him as a student - as a _person_

when he was only thirteen years old, when nobody else thought him capable of carrying even his own

burdens, much less those he was destined to bear.

Fourth year ran the same as third, with the exception that there was again no Defense letter. Fifth year

brought many changes: first, a short and scathing note from Dolores Umbridge (sadistic bitch, Harry

thought), demeaning his every ability; next, Snape's letter had changed. He noted "marked improvement in

practical work" and that "Mr. Potter has become far more cooperative in lessons." (Of course he had - his

anger had all been spilled on Umbridge to the point that there was little but table scraps left for Snape.)

Following the "best work" section came a short note Harry did not expect, and he grinned slightly when he

read it. It was the only thing in his file that seemed written in multiple hands, and he did a double take upon

seeing it.

I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, have been notified that

an extensive practical Defense group was begun, organized, and maintained by Mr. Harry Potter (Y 5) and

two of his friends. With the approval of the Board, I have requested that his second in command, Miss

Hermione Granger, give here an account of their group, "Dumbledore's Army," and the subjects taught

within, as well as any other pertinent information.

Hermione had dealt in spades, giving a full list of the ages of the members (ranging from 12 to 18), the skills they'd mastered

(two members of the Board of Governors had made note, in the margin, of the fact that several second-years had been

positively tested for Patronus skills, as well as many other above-O.W.L. abilities, upon the receipt of Hermione's account),

and the plans Harry had been putting into practice when the D.A. was interrupted by Umbridge. There were more notes on

the parchment by other Governors, plus a short referendum by the Minister of Education written at the bottom. Harry was

more than slightly stunned. Directly behind this startling find was a copy of his career consultation with McGonagall, as well

as several comments from his Head as to how he could continue to improve his studies and shape them to his desired

vocation. He found a copy of his custody documents from that summer, paper-clipped to a photograph of Remus

(presumably for identification - Harry couldn't think of another reason there might be such a photograph in his file). Past that

came his O.W.L. scores and a list of the subjects he was still taking - followed by the thing he'd been looking for. His

recommendation letters for the Dark Arts class. Harry frowned as he tried to remember why this was important. He

couldn't for the life of him think of why this had been bothering him. Then it hit him like a brick wall - he was taking enough

subjects for all five letters, yet he was certain that with Umbridge in power last year he should only have been able to get

four referrals. He flicked through them. McGonagall. Flitwick. Sprout (apparently working with Dark plants like Devil's

Snare or Venomous Tentaculae was enough for a Herbology referral). Hagrid (and it seemed the same went for Dark

creatures like Thestrals). And then he stopped so short he almost dropped the last letter in Dumbledore's fireplace by

accident.

To whom it may concern:

After working extensively in both Potions and Occlumency with Mr. Potter during his fifth year, I have concluded that he is

of a determined and resourceful mindset, eager to share his extensive knowledge with those around him, and willing to learn

insofar as he can insure that the subjects he has set his time to will be of use in his chosen career. He is fully capable of

identifying and brewing antidotes for all forty-six poisons in the eight subsections studied before N.E.W.T. level and has

shown unusual understanding of the written work in Potions, his practical work being above average when paired with a

competent partner.

During Mr. Potter's third year I on several occasions instructed him in Defense Against the Dark Arts and found him to be

well-versed and exemplary in his understanding of the subject. He has been a proven source of knowledge and assistance

to those around him and it is with these strengths in mind that I fully recommend him for a seat in the N.E.W.T. Dark Arts

class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Professor Severus N. Snape

Potions

Harry stared, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He'd never have made it into the class if he hadn't gotten a

reference from Potions - it was on the requirements list Hermione had dug up from (where else?) the library -

Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts letters were all required (the last

requirement had been lifted for last year's class, because Umbridge wasn't likely to write a letter for

ANYBODY - in fact, the only people she'd written letters for were Malfoy and his posse). It was one reason

the class was nearly impossible to get into. He wondered why he hadn't remembered that - or had some

small part of his brain, that part that had thought for sure he would be a prefect, the part that had raged all

last year about all he'd done, had that part managed to convince him, albeit subconsciously, that

Dumbledore would just worm him in?

"I presume you've found what you're looking for, Harry?" Dumbledore peered over the tops of his glasses,

twinkling at his favorite student.

"Er. Yeah, I think, most of it. Erm - Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry?" (There it was again!)

"Sir - I know this is probably going to sound like a really stupid question but -"

"There are no stupid questions, Harry, except those meant to belittle another or another's experience. Any

question asked honestly is perfectly intelligent." (Now where had he heard that before?)

"Er - right. Er - if I hadn't got all the letters I needed for the Dark Arts class -"

"You are referring to your letter for Potions?" (How did he know that?)

"Er - yeah. I mean - would I still have - er - well -"

"There is a clause, Harry, which your friend Miss Granger may have missed, it being little more than an

incidental added at some point within the last two hundred years. The Board eventually realized that there is

a small degree of human error that, in spite of our best efforts, must surely give some degree of inaccuracy

to everything we say and do. It was with this in mind that the then-members of the Board of Governors

created the Competency Clause, a corollary to the original rules of the class. If you were proven more than

competent in all other subjects, one of the required letters could be dropped. This would have resulted in you

having only four letters, but due to the - er - restrictions we were placed under last year, you would not have

been the only student with that dilemma - indeed, I believe no less than four of your classmates fell into that

category. You would still have been permitted into the class based upon your excellent recommendations,

and O.W.L.s, from your other classes. It is a rule that applies to all. I fear you have become too conscious of

yourself, Harry. It is never a good idea to spend so much time in retrospect that you cease to grow for fear of

becoming that which you do not wish to be."

Harry gathered the documents (after determining that it was indeed Remus and not the Dursleys who'd

signed him into the class - he had a feeling it wouldn't have been, but the slightly twisted sense of humor he

seemed to be picking up from Remus demanded that he check), carefully tapped the folder on the floor to

shuffle them all back down to the bottom, and handed it to Dumbledore with a "thanks." He had his hand on

the doorknob when something occurred to him. Harry turned around slowly.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore looked up. "Yes, Harry?" (At least now he'd know . . .)

"You were using Legilimency on me - earlier - weren't you?"

Dumbledore smiled. "When I am in the company of a troubled individual better at stating his or her thoughts

through actions instead of words, I do confess to finding it a useful tool for aiding someone in need."

"Is that why you -"

"You may be interested to know that even Remus still falls under the category of a boy to me, Harry - and he

doesn't like it any more than you do." The headmaster sighed. "One of the disadvantages, I fear, of old age.

But get along, Harry, get along. You have someone to see, do you not?"

* * *

Remus rolled his back over the top edge of the sofa, listening to the popping sounds and groaning in agony 

before allowing himself to relax back onto the seat. "I hate having to crack my own back," he complained

good-naturedly as Harry walked in.

"You wouldn't have to if you hadn't spent all last night out howling at the moon," Severus responded, quirking

his eyebrow. Remus floundered for a mere half a second.

"I completely resent that, Severus. I was _not _out all of last night. And - and it certainly wasn't the moon I was

howling at."

Severus closed his eyes, looking like he was trying to keep his patience. Harry recognised the motion from

class. "Then what, may I ask, were you howling at?"

"Er -" Remus looked like he was trying to remember something - then his face turned red as he spoke,

slowly prying each word out of an unwilling mouth. "I . . . don't think I should have to insult your intelligence by

telling you that . . . " He pled sheepishly with his eyes as Severus finally opened his own and looked at the

repentant blonde. "That really didn't work, did . . . it?" It wasn't really a question. Severus fixed him with a

slightly bemused look.

"Ah - no." Remus buried his face.

"I don't understand how you do it."

"The information you're supposedly withholding from me is information that would injure _you_, not me, with the

amount of knowledge currently held by our colleagues and the students. You're trying to intimidate me. It

would help if you didn't blush so bloody damn much." Which statement, of course, only served to make

Remus blush more.

"Sorry . . . "

Severus watched as Remus rolled his head on his neck, and made a revolted face as several loud popping

noises emitted from the same source. "You do realize you completely disgust everyone around you when

you do that."

"But it feels good when the vertebrae pop back into place so I'm not walking around like a hunchback."

"Sit up straight and you wouldn't have to pop them back in."

Remus just smiled and slipped his arms around Severus' waist. "You know, I suppose if I really wanted to

shut Malfoy up I could threaten to kiss him in front of the entire Great Hall at dinner. . . it'd be easier than

this . . . this . . . "

"Fill-in statements."

"Right."

"Er . . . " Harry, tired of feeling awkward, finally decided to make his presence known. Instantly he was

pierced by gold and black arrows.

"Hello, Harry. I thought you were going to Hogsmeade." Remus stretched his legs out along the magically-

lengthened sofa (no standard sofa in the world was long enough for Remus' legs, in spite of his short

stature), all but laying down right in Severus' lap.

The protest was immediate and very vocal. "Who gave you the right to turn my legs into a bed?"

"My rooms, my rules, Severus. And your legs simply happen to be in the way of my head." Remus patted the

floor in front of him. "Come have a seat. Where's Ron and Hermione?"

"In Hogsmeade. Ron asked if I'd mind not going. With them. I mean - er - not like that - it's just -" Harry

gestured helplessly with his hands from the spot he was still standing on.

"He's trying to woo the Granger girl," Severus informed Remus in a bored tone. Remus made a sound that

might have been roughly interpreted as "how cute." Severus snorted - and then froze like stone as Harry took

three hurried steps across the carpet, hugged him, and said "Thanks."

Harry almost wished he'd had Colin's camera - he'd never seen Severus completely and utterly speechless

before. Finally the dark-eyed man came out with a startled "What the hell was that for?" Remus' eyes flicked

upward, amused.

"Deciding I'm good at something." Harry turned and walked out, turning toward the Owlery.

Severus just sat, mouth slightly open, for several moments - it was, perhaps, as long as thirty seconds before

he spoke. Then: "What the hell -"

A single lazy finger came to rest on his lips. "Drop it."

"Drop it. He leaves something like that hanging out there and you're telling me -"

"Apparently, he knows. And he's not trying to kill us both with eye-daggers anymore, so drop it."

"Well -" Then again, it wasn't like he'd ever use the knowledge.

* * *

(the very, very, very long) **REFERENCE NOTES **(sorry):

**(1)** Not an OC! I checked my Ultimate Unofficial Guide to the Mysteries of Harry Potter, which contains a list of all the

people Sorted by name in Harry's year. If you want to check, you'll want to read Chapter Seven: The Sorting Hat in the

English edition of Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone (Some of the names are different in foreign-language copies). Conversely,

you can also buy a copy of the Ultimate Unofficial Guide, which is a pretty darn cool book. I use it as one of my tools to set

up the complex, and not so complex, puzzles and riddles in my stories!

**(2)** Sectumius: I have NO IDEA if this is potentially correct Latin grammar or not (I just used a JKR trick here). The word

is derived from the Latin _sectum_, for "to cut, hurt, wound, amputate, divide, part."

**(3)** According to an online interview with JKR, James Potter was a Chaser for the Gryffindor House Quidditch team. Only

in the movie is he listed as a Seeker - however, due to some conflicts in the books (i.e. playing with the Snitch in the OotP

chapter "Snape's Worst Memory"), many people have come up with the theory that he played both (Ginny confirms that

this is possible in OotP when she tells Harry she's going to try out for Chaser after Harry is allowed back on the team as

Seeker). The Quidditch history of the teams when the Marauders were at school, as set down here (in part), was created

by me with no regard to any history set up by any other person in any way (except the basic information provided by JKR)

it is entirely my own. (You're welcome to borrow it if you wish, though - just put in one of those common courtesy notes

in that says it's a borrowed bit. Legally pushable? No. Nice thing to do? Absolutely - and I do it all the time.)

**(4)** These are getting WAY too long - so if you want to know the logic behind Severus wearing bracelets on his right wrist,

email me or say so in a (non-anonymous - as in, I need your email) review, and I'll give you the full story.

**(5)** I imagine even an Elizabethan version of Remus would get sick of listing about twenty or so "greats" before "grandson,"

and I know I sure would hate having to read them all. Anyway, I'd say the dates speak for themselves, wouldn't you?

**(6)** I don't remember where I read it, but there is a rather interesting theory that says that the portraits 'live' in a state of

suspended animated wakefulness - that's to say, they're perfectly capable of walking and talking and interacting with those

around them (animated wakefulness), but they neither truly experience anything nor age a day, and do not require any kind

of sustenance to continue existing (suspended animation). Therefore, they're completely unaware of how much time has

passed since they were painted unless they are told. Therefore, this Remus would have no idea that far from being in the

1300-1400's, when he would have been painted, he is now in fact in the late 1990's (going by the official timeline, available

on the Lexicon).

**(7)** veritas venenum: An exact translation of "truth potion" as taken from the original online Latin-to-English

dictionary. This would have been a more elementary and less potent, but no less effective, version of

Veritaserum. (Interesting but useless sidenote: "venenum" may also be used to mean drug or poison.)

**(8)** So it cuts out about 300 years worth of relationships. Do you honestly care enough to do the hours of

research to find an appropriate name, most likely in another old and very obscure language? I don't.

**(9)** Since I've received emails from a couple of people wanting to know how to spot the more subtle clues

and puzzles in "Bottle of Ink," and since these REFERENCE NOTES are going to be insanely long anyway,

I'm going to be kind and give you a hint here. This is in fact a threefold clue, something I'm famous for among

my friends:

1. This is the second time The Chronicles of Narnia have been referenced (see Chapter 7: The Birthday if

you don't remember the first time), plus, if you honestly care enough to read this thing twice (like I do with all

my Harry Potter canon or good fanfiction: once for enjoyment, then (in canon only) one chapter at a time

looking for clues, then as a whole looking for clues), you'll notice obscure references to Narnia in many

places (I'm not being THAT kind!). Now, with all the time I put into these things (yes, I do - about 20 hrs. a

chapter AT LEAST before it ever hits the computer screen, then another 3 or so typing and editing before

it's ever seen by another human being), do you - _really - _mean to tell me you honestly believe that's all by

accident? (JKR should have taught you better . . . -shakes head-)

2. I said "WIZARDING version." Does this mean there are moving pictures, or is there more to it? What are

we going to learn about C.S. Lewis as regards the Wizarding world? (I'll give you a hint: In a chapter coming

up, Remus is going to recite something the most rabid Narnia fans will never have heard - it'll sound vaguely

familiar, but I know you won't recognise it all . . . ) And why was Remus so interested in that particular book?

3. Part of my own quirky humor, but it's also part of a JKR reference straight from PoA: "The Boggart in the

Wardrobe" (chapter title) vs. The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. It might help if you say it really, really

fast, like I did, and soon you'll hear it take on new sounds: "The Lion and Witch in the Wardrobe." Lion

something to be afraid of _unless you know how to deal with it _and witch well, duh, this IS the Harry Potter

universe, right?

So for those who emailed, here's your hint to help train _your minds and _scale_ some of the more difficult _

train scale 

_plants . . . it should be something to really sink your _teeth _into . . . _

**(10)** Geez, into the double digits . . . Hermione says in the first book that the outcomes of their exams will

affect whether or not they are permitted to continue studying (presumably so that if they are incompetent at

magic, they can return to the Muggle world with little or no disruption to their lives).

train scale 


	19. 18: On Christmas

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Oh, Merlin, people, I am SO SORRY I took so long getting this out . . . I tried to make this nice and long to make up for it,although I think being grounded beyond belief explains itpretty well. . . sorry!

RATINGS, DISCLAIMERS, ETC.: Are not being posted this chapter. I'm grounded (yet again . . . ), so I'm doing all my computer work from school. I'll be answering reviews, though I won't get to it today.

**SIDE NOTE:** I've got some pretty odd spellings going on here in the names of Remus' family, and yes, I know it. Short of everyone trying to teach Harry their names (which gets old if it's not done right), I'll give you the pronounciations right here."Everjoice" is a name I took from a book, and as near as I can tell is pronounced "EV-reh-joyss." "Margarette" is pronounced just like "Margaret," with the accent on the first syllable (not the last one). Mary Anne's name was changed from the Marianne you see early on in the story (I still need to go change it . . . ), and "Angelle" is pronounced like "angel," only the "a" (arm, apple) instead of long (angel, state).

**TAKE NOTE!** In a review I got for this chapter (yeah, yeah, I KNOW I said I wouldn't revise again until the whole thing was done) I was informed that my formatting is screwed up because I am using "hard line breaks." (Never heard of them, but you guys are my bosses . . . ) I began putting a space between every line because when I didn't the text all ran together. The site has since changed several things, though, so I'm going to TRY going back to regular type. I'll do this chapter today (I got about half done - the formatting should change halfway through the conversation with Remus' twin sisters), and I'm going to ask that you tell me when you reviewif the new format works for you on your computer (the school monitors and my monitor at home are the same size and use the same browser, so I'll have no way of knowing if it screws up for someone else). If it works for the majority of people (the person with a ten-inch screen running Windows 95 doesn't count - most of us are far more advanced than that), I'll start reformatting everything else tomorrow (I must really love you people). Thanks!

P.S. My Yahoo! email is not working, so if you wish to email me just now please do so at sailorsharon7727 (at) sailormoon (dot) com.

Enjoy!  
Haruka Lune

* * *

"I don't understand what you think is so terrible about the idea," Remus argued. He was fully aware that he was fighting a losing battle, but that didn't mean he was giving up. Typical Gryffindor: Aims for the impossible, and most of the time even achieves it. Getting Severus Snape out of the dungeons for Christmas, however, seemed to be more than that. It was a possibility that Remus had finally met his match. 

"Then I will spell it out for you one more time. One: I do not celebrate Christmas. Two: If anyone found out I spent Christmas with your parents - _your_ parents - and relatives, I would have a good deal of delicate explaining to do to the Dark Lord. And three: the idea of 'meeting the family' has never appealed to me. More often than not it is an awkward and unpleasant process in which I am dissected and stared at as though I were a dead beetle on a card. I won't do it." Nobody could ever accuse Severus of incoherency, at least.

"Fine. Then I'll point a few things out to _you_: One, not everyone in my family celebrates Christmas. We all respect each others' beliefs. Christmas is just a time that it's convenient for all of us to get together - work holidays and all, you know. Two: You could always tell him that either Dumbledore made you come, or I invited you and you took it as a golden opportunity to find out more about the Order, only to discover that people were too busy entertaining five year olds to discuss any real information. And three: My parents . . . " Remus paused, clearly struggling not to laugh. "Trust me, Severus, my parents are, well, they're .. .well, let's just say they're not typical parents. Give it five minutes and everybody's going to be acting like they've known you forever. That's just the way my family is."

"And I suppose I'm going to be expected to help entertain the aforementioned five-year-olds."

"Hardly. They'll be outside most of the time anyway."

Severus Snape sighed. It wasn't often he lost an argument, and it always annoyed him. But on the bright side, he wouldn't have to deal with the teenaged brats it was his "joy" to teach, for three whole weeks . . .

* * *

"Harry?"

"Smash him, _smash him_, you idiot, it's only a rook - huh?"

Remus smiled. "I see you're improving. I wanted to ask you if you were planning on staying for Christmas."

"Er - well - oh, _damn _it - sorry, Remus- get _off_, Crookshanks, they're only chess pieces! - I don't really know," Harry managed, between losing a bishop to Ron's queen and two pawns to Crookshanks. Remus smiled again and shook his head.

"I wouldn't ask except I'm going home for Christmas, and I know Mum thought it would be wonderful if you came, so -"

Remus caught a falling castle and returned it to its place on the chessboard, then quickly swooped Crookshanks off Harry's lap.

Harry paused, realizing only when he was kicked by a miniature horse leg that he was still holding his knight in midair. "Are you serious? I mean - actually spend the hols with your family?"

"Why not?" Remus conveniently forgot to mention that Severus was coming - though Harry had become rapidly more accepting of him, their relationship was tenuous at best.

"Wow - that'd be - I'd love that - NO, Crookshanks!"

For being so intelligent, the ginger-haired menace certainly didn't understand the difference between "living" and "charmed" very well.

* * *

Harry shook snow off his cloak and pulled off his boots, staring in disbelief at the several rows by the door. "Wow . . . are all of those -" 

"The black ones in the back are work boots." One thing Harry hadn't known was that Remus' family lived on a real, one hundred percent authentic farm, so they'd come in past a huge barn that housed crops, horses, cows, and a pig. Or, to be more correct, it had housed a pig until about a month ago, when the pig was killed. "Happens every year," Remus had informed Harry conversationally - apparently his parents raised their own pork. Off to the side of that was a massive chicken coop, and beyond that Harry could see farming equipment and a duck pond. Yes, this was definitely good old Devonshire countryside. The house itself was well built and fairly normal looking, but unbelievably small - Harry wasn't sure how on earth Remus' family expected to fit so many people in, especially with houseguests staying. Remus had said thirty-nine people, and he didn't appear to be exaggerating . . .

* * *

"Remus, honey, it's so good to see y'again . . . 'n which one's this?" Harry blushed as Remus' mother, a plump little silver- haired woman in a white blouse with a royal blue skirt and a white apron, turned him all around to look at him, and then drew him in for a hug. 

"_Mum . . . _do you always have to do that?" Remus was blushing.

"Remus Lupin, you're bringin' new family into this house, I've got every raght to find out who they are 'n all. Now Ah do believe I asked you a q'estchun." (Which was exactly how she pronounced it.)

Harry had to bite the insides of his mouth to keep from laughing as Remus all but shrank from his mother. She was shorter than both of them (Harry guessed she couldn't be much more than four-ten or so), and had the strangest, most drawn-out accent Harry had ever heard, but it was already clear who wore the robes in this family.

"Er - this is Harry, Mum." Next to Remus' gentle tones, his mother's intonations sounded even more out of place.

"Well, isn' that wond'aful." She pulled Harry away from her, holding his shoulders and looking at him all over like he was a son she hadn't seen in years, coming home from war. "It's so good to be meetin' you after all Remus 's tol' me in the letters he almost nevah sends."

Harry couldn't help it anymore - he laughed right out loud, in part at the accent, partly at the funny wording, and, most of all, at the clear hint directed at Remus. He smiled at Remus' mother. "I'm glad to meet you too, Mrs. Lupin."

Harry immediately recognized the eye-rolling gesture that involved a moving of the head - it was a Remus trait through and through. "Mrs. Lupin, _honestly_ . . . what've you been teachin' this boy, Remus?"

"Er . . . ?" Harry looked at Remus in a panic. Was Lupin only his last name, and not his parents'? Or had the Lupins from Remus' story been divorced and remarried, or -

"F'r goodness' sake, Child, call me Gram. Ev'rybawd' else does. Mrs. Lupin . . ." She shook her head. "Wond'aful way to give a body the shiv'rin' hits."

"Gram?" That was unusual . . .

"That's right. You wanta take your things upstairs? Remus c'n show you where ya' goin', honey - put 'im in your old room, Remus, 'cause we nevah took the bunk-beds outa theya."

"All right. Grab your bag, Harry - we've got a bit of a climb. I'm in the attic."

As they wended their way up the stairs, Harry gave in to curiosity. Remus wouldn't think he was being rude . . .

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Why does your mum - you know - talk like that?"

Remus made a face that clearly indicated he didn't know what Harry was talking about. "Like what?"

"All . . . funny. Her accent."

"Acc - oh, oh . . . " Remus started laughing. "Harry, my mum's from Mississippi. She's lived here in Britain since she was twenty - I guess Pop met her when he was doing an internship in the States or something - but she grew up in the Deep South, and that makes a lot of difference. Really, you'll get used to it."

"I might need a translator until I do," Harry quipped, and both of them laughed the entire rest of the way up the stairs.

* * *

"So what're you findin' so important, tch've gotta stop writin' t'ya mother, Remus? Here - is 'ere 'nough butter in this?" 'Gram' offered Remus a spoonful of some kind of dough. Remus stuck the spoon in his mouth and then announced from around a mouthful of dough, "Mmph phher. Bffit neemph shmmggphh." Gram gave him a dirty look. "Remus . . . " 

Remus swallowed with difficulty. "Sorry, Mum."

"Now you wanta tell me what it was you were tryin' to say?"

Remus blushed. "I only said it's got enough butter but not enough sugar."

"'S because they get rolled in sugah when they done, Remus. Y' say that ev'ry year, 'n ev'ry year I gotta tell you they get rolled in sugah when they done bakin'. 'N when's t'othah one goin't' get here, anyway, darlin'? Thought he was comin' with ya."

Harry turned and glared at Remus, his eyes emeralds of suspicion. "What other one, Remus?"

If Remus had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he did now. "Don't get mad, Harry, but -"

"Oh, no. No way. Remus, you _didn't_ -"

"Mum said to invite him." Remus moved to the kitchen window to stare out at the road broodingly. "And you need to learn to get along with him anyway, Harry, and here there are plenty of other people to talk to if you - I think that's him, Mum," Remus announced, indicating a lone figure in a long black travelling cloak with a black hood pulled up far enough to conceal the face.

"Well now, ain't that wond'aful. He does know t'come in by the sayd door, don't he?" Gram peered around Remus' shoulder to stare out the window, just in time for the black-clad figure to traipse up the snowy beat-out path to the side door off the kitchen.

"Mmm-hmm." Remus turned around just in time to see Harry disappear into the shadows of the kitchen corner. "Harry, stop that. You act like he's going to murder you for being here when - eep!" The strange, extremely un-Remus-like squeak at the end was instigated by a now-cloakless Severus Snape seizing Remus around the waist and picking him right up off the stone-tiled floor to announce his presence.

"I ought to drop you for giving me the wrong directions, you overgrown puppy," Sna- _Severus_ growled, though he in fact merely set Remus back in the same place he'd been standing. (Harry decided he'd better get used to that if they were going to be here for almost two weeks.)

"I - what?" Remus looked confused.

"You told me to turn right at the bridge. I wandered around like a fool for almost two bloody _hours_ before I found someone willing to give directions."

"Well, then, that's your own fault for not knocking on a door. People don't bite around here, Severus."

Gram clucked disapprovingly. "Wanderin' 'round in a storm layk this. It's a wunda you din't freeze to death out theya."

For the first time, Severus seemed to realize there was someone else in the room. "Er -"

Remus quickly picked up the slack with his usual grace. "Mum, this is Severus. Severus, this is my mother, Everjoice, who is going to make sure you leave fifteen pounds heavier than you were when you showed up." Harry suppressed his laughter as Severus formally extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lupin."

Gram . . . squawked. There wasn't much of any other word for it. "Mrs. again! Remus, what _have _you been tellin' these ones?"

Remus only blushed, so Harry supplied aid from his own recent experiences. "She told me to call her Gram."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "_Gram_?"

"Er . . . well . . . " It was Harry's turn to blush.

"Well, he's fam'ly, ain't 'e? Mum's fine."

Remus slipped back into the conversation. "Mum, he still calls Minerva and Filius 'Professor.' I guarantee you there's no way he'll come in here and start calling you Mum." He turned to Severus. "She lets people call her Everjoice if they've got a stick so far up their behinds they can't call her anything else."

Harry privately held the opinion that one of these days Severus' face was going to freeze that way, and he'd have to walk

around forever looking like he had no eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"

"Denied," Remus replied cheerfully. "Where's your -" he showed rather than spoke "luggage," by glancing significantly at Severus' hands and then around the general area, gesturing with his own hands.

"In the breezeway."

"Right, then, I'll get it and - Mum, where's Severus staying?" Remus moved easily from statement to question in one fluid verbal movement.

"In your room, a'course," Gram supplied. Remus instantly took on the visage of a man ready to have an apoplectic fit.

"But - _Mu-um!_ That's completely inappropriate! I've got Harry upstairs with me and there's only two beds!"

Gram stared at him as though either this hadn't occurred to her, or she hadn't considered it a difficulty. "And is there anythin' wrong with two responsible people sleepin' in the same bed when we're already short on space?"

"No! Yes! I don't know! Mum, we're - that doesn't - that doesn't work! It's just - no! Look, I'll sleep on the sofa and -"

"You'll do no such thang, Remus Lupin, and you oughta know better by now. If'n it bothers you so much you c'n take the rug right in your own room, 'n do it your own self. We need that dav'nport f'r Cath'rine's husband if'n 'e ever gets in - she's got the lit'l ones sleepin' with her this time 'stead'a puttin' 'em in sleepin' bags up with Remus," Gram informed Harry in a sort of aside.

"But - I - oh, _fine_. But I'm warning you, Mum, if I wake up dead tomorrow because I was interrupting his precious beauty sleep, _it's your fault_, do you understand me?"

"I'll resk it. Now git along upstairs with you-all so's you c'n git back daywn here t'go see ev'rybawdy else. They've been a-waitin' for you."

* * *

Severus paused in the doorway to the living room. The sound of voices was quite loud. "Er - what exactly are these people like, Remus?" 

"They won't eat you," Remus answered nonsympathetically, pulling on Severus' arm until they were inside the doorway. Then Remus whistled on two fingers. Conversations stopped, and several people glared at him. The redhead Harry'd seen in the picture waved at them with a cheerful call of "Hello, there, Angel Boy!" Remus beamed. "Right, everyone, I'm here, and -" he pulled Harry out from behind him, while several people took advantage of the pause to murmur (or, in the case of the little kids, shout) their greetings - "this is Harry, and -" he turned to extract Severus from the woodwork, only to discover he was missing. He looked up and saw the black-haired man moving behind the twins, Mary Anne and Margarette. Severus was trying to read something that one of the girls was holding up to check the recitation of the other, who chanted along obliviously as conversations slowly picked up again all around them. He appeared to be becoming more and more amused as Mary Anne continued her educated babble at a regular rate.** (1)**

"- Order of Ravenclaw upon his graduation in 1978, being only the two hundredth peson to ever receive it. He quickly crowned this achievement with his post-Hogwarts studies, becoming the youngest Master in his field since regulations were imposed four - I mean five - hundred years ago, and published a paper on his discovery in 1981 that aconite and silverwort would neutralize each other when mixed in appropriate quantities. Although he left his work in the British Department of Mysteries after the death of the Dark Lord, also in 1981, he joined a Ministry team in October - no, November, sorry - of 1986 that created a prototype of the potion commonly today known as the Wolfsbane or Lunar Denial Potion, and in 1987 recieved an award for exemplary field work upon completing a project that proved the possibility of someday creating a potion that would enable a drinker to remove selected memories for the purpose of study in a manner akin to that of a Pensieve. In May of 1989 he refined the basic Healing Potion, halving the number of ingredients to make it more effective and less costly -"

"What are you doing, Mary Anne?" Remus inquired, as the freckled waif completely lost her self-control and snatched the book from Margarette to check the last date, which she was certain she'd messed up terribly. "Reciting passages for a presentation we have to give when we go back after the hols," Mary Anne responded, still scanning the page for the date of

the Healing Potion.

"What kind of presentation?"

"On an influential witch or wizard from the 20th century - _March_," she wailed. "March of 1989. It's no use, Maggie, I'm

_never_ going to get this whole thing done right. Why can't you do it?"

"Who are you doing? For your presentation?" Remus prodded.

"Severus Snape. He's the youngest Potions Master ever. He was the only decent choice on the list, really - imagine doing

_Marten Gatlinson_, ugh."

"I stutter when I get nervous, Rags. And what was so bad about Gatlinson?" Margarette demanded, tugging her book angrily

out of her mirror's hands, as Remus tried to stifle his laughter.

"He invented the_ hermaphroditic hex _**(2),** Maggie! Have you ever seen that thing performed? It's _disgusting_! Wait a minute,

was the Freckle-Removal Potion in 1975 or 1976? I wrote it down here as 1976, but I think it was in 1975. I guess it doesn't

matter much, but we'll lose points for it if it's wrong and a lot of people know about it, it's not like - I don't know -

Veritaserum or something, where it's restricted and a year's difference wouldn't matter because nobody would know it

anyway. I wish we could get an interview. Joely Travers is doing Nickolas Merchand and she got an interview. I wonder if he

takes Owl Post . . . ?" Mary Anne chewed absentmindedly on her little finger as she reviewed the notebook sitting open on

her lap, in which it appeared she'd been trying to create their presentation. Seemingly the problem of Potions Masters and

Owl Post had passed from her mind - until a black-clad arm crossed over her shoulder and tapped the page. "The original

test was in 1974 and it was approved for general use in 1979, actually," Severus informed the unsuspecting twin, who let out

a strangely high "yipes!" and jumped about a foot, twisting on her stool. For the first time in his life Severus wished that he

owned a camera and had been holding it at that moment. The look on the girl's face was priceless. First she stared, quite

openly, for all of about five very long seconds. Then she twisted around again, quite quickly, and yanked the book from

Margarette yet again, ripping two pages in the process (Margarette let out a small cry of dismay), and flipped back about five

pages to study the picture next to the biography name, at which point she looked up again at Severus and then held the book

up so as to see both faces at once. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes bulged.

And then she fainted.

Nobody around them missed a beat except for Harry, who had been playing with the little kids and now jumped up in alarm.

Remus and Margarette had caught Mary Anne easily, and Rachael simply passed Remus her handkerchief, which she'd

somehow wetted, to wipe Mary Anne's face. The girl recovered promptly and blinked twice before informing her brother that

she'd just seen "the curiousest thing. I swear, Remy, he was standing _right behind you_!" Remus ducked his head, not sure

whether to blush, laugh, or just point upward. His dilemma was solved when Severus crouched down next to where Remus

had forced Mary Anne to sit on the floor until he was sure she wasn't going to faint again (it had a tendency to run in the

family).

"Are you all right?" Concern was evident in Severus' voice. Certainly he'd made people faint before, but a wand and a

Stunning spell were usually involved. Mary Anne blinked again and then stuttered, "Are you - I mean - you're, you're, you

can't be- did you - urck - Remy?"

Remus did start laughing then. "This is Severus, Mary Anne." His fiestiest sibling immediately attempted to scramble into a

more dignified position and started to babble again.

"Oh, gosh, wow - I mean - I'm really sorry, it's just - we've been doing a lot in my Brewing class with your work and I only -

well - I mean - how did you do all that before you were even eighteen? I mean, that's got to take a lot of talent, but nothing

was even published for _ages_ -"

"I wasn't even aware I was in any textbooks," Severus commented, picking the abused volume from the floor and flipping

through it to find the much more worn section the twins had been using. Then he furrowed his brow. "Brewing class - you go

to an American school?"

Remus cut in. "The girls took a placement exam - Albus thought they might take higher qualifications than the N.E.W.T.

standard - and both of them got scholarships to Gemini-Taurus."

"Gemini-Taurus, what's that? And what's a Brewing class?" Harry reminded them of his presence.

"A Brewing class is the American version of Potions, Harry," Remus informed his ward, "and Gemini-Taurus is the Gemini-

Taurus New England Magical Academic Institute for Girls. Very small, very select. I'm surprised Hermione didn't try to

transfer there, to be honest. They only take an entry level class of ninety students a year, but she could probably have passed

the exams to get in. I took one out of curiosity and passed it, but of course I couldn't exactly go to a girls' school."

Mary Anne, meanwhile, had been chattering away with Severus, informing him of some kind of experimentation she'd been

doing with a painkiller potion he'd invented - the one drawback to the potion in question was the fact that it was highly

hallucenogenic. Apparently Mary Anne had discovered a way to lessen the delusional effects without impairing the potion's

effectiveness. Severus turned to Remus at the pause in the conversation with Harry. He pointed at Mary Anne, raised his

eyebrows slightly, and informed his partner, "Already I like this girl."

Remus started laughing, so loudly that several of his siblings and in-laws paused to give him some kind of Lupinish glare that

told him he'd better either shut up or get on with it, so he shared the joke. The laughter spread.

The ice was broken.

* * *

"All right, you lot, get over here!" Remus was hoarse from talking and laughing all through dinner, but that couldn't stop a 

Lupin family tradition.

"What in the name of _Merlin_ are you doing, Remus?" Severus was less enthusiastic, to say the least.

"Reading A Christmas Carol. We do it every year. Or I should say I do it every year. It means I don't have to do the dishes.

Come on, everyone, or are we all going to bed early?" Remus' bed threat did the trick. His nieces and nephews (plus Mary

Anne and Margarette and the three younger Lupin siblings) crowded around the Christmas tree Remus was sitting under, and

little Remus tried to crawl into his uncle's lap. He was displaced by his youngest cousin, a chubby eighteen-month-old named

Angelle, but wasn't going down without a fight - and so finally Remus made one sit with Mary Anne and the other sit with

Margarette, on opposite sides of the group. At that point Harry came racing in, yanking on an old gray T-shirt as he did so

(apparently he'd been helping with dishes, a pretty lively task even with all adults doing it - when the kids were involved soap

fights were inevitable), and plonked down next to Severus so hard the windows rattled. (In his favor, they were pretty old

windows.) Remus looked up at him and smiled, and then opened his old, battered, leatherbound copy of the book, and began

to read.

For a group of kids, everyone was pretty quiet - until Ebenezer Scrooge spoke his first words, sounding like a cranky version

of Ollivander, and then uproar broke out.

"That's not Scrooge, Remy!" Ty hollered, and the twins frowned identical disapproval.

"Yes, that's true, you've always given Scrooge a very nice voice," Margarette commented.

"It's sexy!" Melody chimed in.

"Uber-sexy," Mary Anne emphasized (Margarette looked scandalized), prompting Remus to ask her where on Earth she'd

ever learned a word like "uber-sexy." (Apparently one of her roommates at school used it.)

"Scrooge isn't supposed to have a nice voice, you guys. I just always used that voice because -" the beginning tints of a blush

were slowly creeping up Remus' cheeks - "well, I liked it, but it doesn't really fit. Scrooge is supposed to be an old man."

"But you _can't_ just change Scrooge, Remy," Mary Anne lamented. "It's not the _same_."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I think you've been outnumbered, Remus."

"THAT'S IT!" Raena scrambled up onto her knees and pointed at Severus, staring at her brother accusingly. "Remy, you

_promised_ you wouldn't read it to anyone else unless they were here for Christmas!"

At this point Remus could have hidden himself very well in a basket of strawberries, but he stood his ground anyway. "I didn't

read it to anyone else, Raena," he protested, and the thirteen-year-old pouted.

"Then why did he know the Scrooge voice?" Raena demanded. Remus blushed even more heavily, and Severus raised his

eyebrow again.

"You've been using my voice for years, haven't you?" he commented, and Remusnodded - still blushing furiously."It just

seemed to fit."

* * *

Remus left the bathroom, soaking wet and breathless, and shepherded the last of the little kids into Kelli's room. It had taken 

him nearly twenty minutes to remember that the only way to bathe a two-year-old without waking everyone in the house was

to get in the tub right along with them, and when he'd finally done so he'd immediately gotten a foot to the stomach for his

efforts. (In his nephew's favor, Remus had the feeling it was an attempt to splash, not kick.) He plodded up the twenty-one

unlit, old wooden steps that led to the attic, feeling his way along the walls like an unsteady toddler, and pushed open the

ancient oak door. Two minutes' hard work (wet jeans and tiny buttons on a similarly soaked flannel shirt were nothing to

laugh at) saw him crouching in front of his suitcase in nothing but his own skin. He wondered vaguely if he'd even brought

anything but his old cutoff shorts and T-shirts, and then wondered why he cared, when the door opened again and an

embarrassingly familiar voice inquired, "Do we just leave everything up here or do the packages go downstairs?"

Remus let out a sort of startled squeal, and Harry "mmnnnnpphh"ed from the top bunk (he'd gone to bed right after the story

was over). Remus dragged an overlarge T-shirt quickly over his head. "Let me make myself decent and we'll take everything

down."

"Mmm." Severus sat wand-straight on the edge of the bed and waited - he had no idea where Remus had hidden the parcels

to keep prying young eyes and fingers at bay, so he didn't have much choice of activities. Remus finally located an old pair of

flannel pajama bottoms and tugged them on, his progress hampered by his still-damp feet (they insisted on continuously

getting caught in the legs). Finally he put a finger to his lips and motioned Severus toward the closet, pulling out his wand and

whispering "Lumos" as he opened the old door and beckoned the taller man right into the wardrobe. Severus opened his

mouth to ask what on earth they were doing, but Remus shushed him and opened _another_ door in the back of the closet.

Apparently it was some kind of hidden room or priest's hole (though Severus doubted the house was anywhere near old

enough to have a priest's hole), because Remus ducked inside and immediately began to pass out boxes of presents. Severus

stacked three on top of each other, and then another two next to them. Remus finally slipped out of the cubbyhole in the back

of the closet and picked up a stack of boxes. Severus followed suit, and the pair carefully maneuvered down the stairs.

* * *

It took half an hour to put everything under the enormous Christmas tree, and by the time the two men were done they were 

both exhausted. It was hard to blame them; staying up until two o'clock in the morning could do that. Remus sat down under

the tree again with a slight "uhnnn" sound. Severus sat down next to him, and as soon as he'd done so Remus laid right back

underneath the massive branches.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Severus demanded. Remus only grinned, grabbed the back of Severus'

shirt collar, and pulled him down. "Look up."

"Wha-"

Remus slipped his hand over Severus' mouth and pushed his head gently down to the floor. "Just look up. Straight up."

Severus finally complied, and what he saw was enough to make his breath hitch. He had assumed that sixteen years of

Hogwarts' gaudy decorations would leave him prepared for anything, but he hadn't ever seen anything like this. Remus' family

apparently preferred the tiny little Muggle lights, which were pretty enough to someone completely unused to seeing them. But

even more than that were the ornaments **(3)**, most of them made of hand-blown glass and heavy, yet fragile. The tiny amount

of space he could see contained part of a glass village, an intricately painted teddy bear riding on a rocking horse, two

porcelain angels, a large gold ball, and several long, glistening icicles. He reached up to touch one, certain that these were

everlasting icicles like the ones he'd seen in the school - and was shocked beyond belief to discover that they were just glass

ornaments, painted carefully on the inside with crystal-colored paint in such a way that they looked completely real. As he

shifted to lay back under the tree again, he caught sight of another ornament, this one home-made, with the red-headed

woman's picture in it. He turned to Remus to ask about it, but Remus headed him off.

"Mum makes them every year and then saves them in shoe boxes. She calls them her memory keepers, or something like

that. That one there is Catherine."

Severus nodded and looked up again, slightly befuddled by the red-white-and-green thing hanging down in front of his nose.

"What _is_ this?"

"It's a candy cane. The little kids love them," Remus explained, pulling several strands of silvery, threadlike flotsam from a

branch and trailingthem over Severus' face with that funny not-quite-giggle. "You look ridiculous!"

"You're the one who put it there," Severus responded crossly, brushing it irritably off his face. "I never asked to have

cobwebs strewn over my person."

"It's _tinsel_, Severus," Remus rejoined impatiently, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not

cobwebs." He paused for a moment. "You've never seen a hand-decorated tree before, have you?"

Severus closed his eyes. "My mother was the one in our family who loved Christmas. After she died when I was six my father

wanted nothing to do with it. I didn't see another Christmas tree up close until I went to Hogwarts, and by then I really didn't

care." He opened his eyes again and turned his face toward Remus, who was staring at him incredulously.

"You mean - you've never celebrated Christmas properly since you were _six_?"

Severus nodded.

"That's ridiculous," Remus declared, pushed himself up on one elbow, and kissed Severus just above his eye. Both of them

immediately flushed and looked in opposite directions. Remus cast his eyes around the room once and then back to Severus,

who looked back to Remus at almost exactly the same moment. "I'm going to make sure this is the best Christmas you've

ever had."

"It already is," Severus responded, and Remus instantly felt terrible. To think that so little had been required to make it the

best - but then Severus continued, and the guilt left him. "I have never been with a group of people who made me feel so

completely like I belonged with them. I wouldn't have that if you hadn't dragged me here to begin with."

Remus smiled. "So you admit you were wrong?"

Severus heaved himself up and pulled Remus up against his side, relishing for just a moment the childish magic worked by a lit

Christmas tree in a darkened room. "I was not wrong. I merely expressed an alternative point of view."

Remus shook his head. He'd won one argument in the past week, he wasn't going to push it. "Of course." He looked at his

watch and all but jumped. "_Merlin_, I'm supposed to be up at five thirty, I've got to get to bed . . . "

"Then let's go, shall we?" Severus inquired, and Remus nodded. The blonde took two steps and then turned to look at his

partner curiously.

"I will join you shortly," Severus informed him, trying to shoo him out of the room without making undignified hand motions.

Remus took the hint and left the room slowly, turning once to look back at the tree and the man crouching in front of it.

* * *

When Severus was completely certain Remus was gone, he pulled a small, plainly wrapped package from his pocket and 

nestled it between a box covered in snowman giftwrap and one of the little kids' forgotten sweaters. He stood up and looked

down on it. Then he turned and made his way to the attic, not looking back.

* * *

(The surprisingly short) **REFERENCE NOTES:**

**(1)** I'm perfectly aware that Mary Anne's recitation isn't the most grammatically correct, nor is it the clearest, but for one she

is trying to remember these things from memory, and out of a Wizarding book (said books not being particularly

understandable at the best of times) for another. If you're really interested to know all the events basically set out here and

you can't follow the carefully-crafted-as-unintelligible babble (which wouldn't surprise me, since I kept deliberatelyrewriting it

until Icouldn't understand it upon proofreading), email me at freesongspirit (at) yahoo (dot) com, and I'll be glad to set out a

quick list for you.

**(2)** As you probably suspect, this hex changes someone's gender, but Gatlinson wasn't very good with his work and so there

are often strange side effects, like women who have no common sense and refuse to stop for directions (sorry guys).

**(3)** I feel I must give credit where it's due for this tree. The ornaments on this tree all belong(ed . . . some are gone now) to

my family and the family of my best friend, or were at the very least inspired by ornaments we own(ed). (Some also come

from a tree in a house my mother and I stayed in for three days when we were on vacation - the "Christmas Every Day"

house.) Ever since my dad had a heart attack a week before Christmas (that was four years ago) and Mom ended up in the

hospital at all hours of the day and night to be with him, it's been my job to decorate the tree. The year that Daddy was

hospitalized, he came home with Mom on Christmas Eve, and they got to see the tree just as I plugged it in in the dark for the

first time. I've never seen such a pretty tree, and I sneaked out of bed that night to go lay under the tree and just feel happy. I

must have stayed there for an hour, looking right up through the branches, and I realized that you've never seen the prettiest

part of a Christmas tree until you've lain underneath one - hence Remus' love of doing this. (Honestly, try it sometime . . . it's

beautiful.)


	20. 19: On Gifts of All Kinds

**LINER NOTES:**

I only have a couple of minutes, so I'm only answering reviews real quick and then off to posted story-land!

**Yulara**: Whassup? (I'm grounded again . . . what else isn't new?) Yes, the idea of Severus-with-hateful-father-and-no-mother is somewhat overused and yes, I gave you that idea, but just think . . . I just started planning a story, aided by a million magazine articles about Star Wars, in which his parents turn out to have been siblings and didn't know it until after he was born . . . along with three siblings of his own . . . -snicker- I'm evil!

**ThePurpleEmperor**: Severus, mushy? NEVER! -gasps in horror- I just wanted to show a bit of why he hates his past so much.

**Camille**: Yours is my favorite review, so this chapter is dedicated to you and your friend! (guess why it's my fave . . .LOL) I hope you like this chapter, too!

**DewNymph**: Hello there, I'm glad you like it! Yes. . .trees are fun. One thing though: Harry's "Master" thesis is a reference not to the degree, as we think of it, but to "exemplary knowledge" for example Severus is a Potions Master. And it's quite likely he won't get it for some time, he's just trying right now.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Harry?"

Harry batted once lazily at the air. "Go away, Hermione . . ."

"Harry, Sugah, it's Gram."

"I don't want to go to the library . . ."

"It ain't the lahbraray, Sweetheart, it's Remus Ah'm aftuh."

Harry rolled over and almost fell out of the bunk bed. "Hunh?"

Gram smiled. "Ah'm sawrry to wake ya at en hour layk this'n, Child, but Ah'm lookin' fur Remus, 'n since this is hees room, Ah wuz wunderin' if you'd seen 'im."

Harry pulled himself up on his elbows and grabbed at his watch.

"It's a qwatah to six, Sugah."

"What'd'you want him so early for?"

"Mmmnnnn . . . " Severus rolled over on the bottom bed and blinked once. It was something he took pride in, that he was awake as soon as he stopped sleeping - that was to say, truly awake and not just walking around looking it. Gram jumped.

"Way-ull nayw, if'n Ah'd'a known you was awake Ah'd not've woken this'un. 'Ve you seen Remus?"

It was at this particular moment that Remus reentered the room, shirtless, wet, and with his pajama pants pulled on in such a careless manner that they revealed more than they hid. Upon seeing his mother standing next to his bed, Remus gasped and tried to yank the pants up to his waist. Whether or not he succeeded was a matter of opinion - he pulled them up properly, but then unknowingly caught his hand in the drawstring, causing them to fall right back down when he lowered his hand back to his side.

"Oh, of all the -"

"Remus Lupin, Ah've been _lookin' _fur you fur the payst _haylf an hour._ D'you wanter explaiyn where you've been?"

Remus pulled a blue and black plaid flannel shirt out of his suitcase (it seemed like everything the man had packed was made of flannel, denim, or wool) and tugged it on, struggling to button it in the semidark.

"I got a shower, Mum. In case you didn't notice, you were not the one bathing the babies last night, _I _was, and there was no hot water left by the time I got Peter to bed."

"Way-ull . . . go dray your hayr. You ain't goin' out to the barn with your hayr all soppin' layk thayat." Gram turned and left, and instantly Harry was suspiciously full of energy. "Why are you going to the barn, Remus? What's going on that you've got to be up so early? Is something wrong?"

Remus laughed and tugged his side of the covers straight. "Just chores, Harry. Animals don't take holidays, you know."

Harry sat straight up so quickly that Remus said a quick thank-you for sleeping in the attic - any normal bedroom in the house and the teen would have given himself a concussion. "Can I help?"

Remus shook his head goodnaturedly. "Harry, farm chores aren't easy. It takes years of practice to do some of them right and they're really not all that fun -"

"Come on, Remus, I want to help. You said you had horses." Harry had discovered a great love of the equestrian animals after a hay ride he'd taken with his guardian - the horses pulling the cart had been gorgeous.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Meet me in the breezeway - where we came in yesterday - in five minutes. Any more and you stay inside, got it?"

Harry jumped over the side railing and landed on the floor in nothing but his underwear. "Got it."

"Harry . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Where are your pajamas?"

Harry shrugged. "What good are summer pajamas in the middle of December?"

Remus sighed. "I knew I should have gotten you a pair when I went up to London to get those extra textbooks."

* * *

Harry hurried down the rickety old stairs two at a time, followed at a more dignified pace by Severus, who had insisted that almost all country families did a lot of cooking and he'd rather be making coffee or biscuits than laying in bed trying to fall back asleep. Harry left the black haired man standing in the kitchen and raced down into the breezeway just in time to see Remus pulling on a pair of knee-high black rubber boots.

"Pick a pair, kiddo," Remus greeted, nodding toward the boots on his feet. Harry pulled a pair out of the pile and tried them on. Too big. Three pairs later he finally found some that fit passably. Remus handed him a positively ancient brown coat with enormous pockets and nodded toward the door. Harry had just enough time to wonder if he should ask about gloves before Remus tugged at his arm and pulled him in the direction of the barn.

Apparently gloves weren't something he'd need, Harry discovered, as they entered the gigantic wooden structure to the sound of lowing. Remus hurried to pull a three-legged stool from the wall and opened a stall, motioning Harry inside. "Stay slow and on the left, Harry," Remus instructed, sitting the stool down. "Have you ever seen anyone milk a cow?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, now you're going to, and you're going to learn how to do it. It's not as easy as you'd think." Remus pushed a bucket under the pink udder. The cow lowed again. "Now that's enough, Sadie, I've got you now . . . " A warm stream of milk streaked into the pail. Harry watched, somewhat amazed. Certainly he knew that milk came from cows and that someone had to milk that cow - it was simply that he rarely considered the fact when pouring white, cold, sterilized milk out of a cardboard container as compared to the cream-colored, foamy stuff slowly filling the pail.

"Harry."

"Huh?" Harry looked up quickly, and Remus quickly turned the teat he was milking, squirting a long stream right into Harry's mouth.

"Remus!" Harry protested, milk dribbling down his chin.

"Watch it," Remus scolded, "that's perfectly good milk you're wasting."

Harry obediently closed his mouth and tried to swallow, although his laughing was causing a bit of difficulty. He finally got down the mouthful, and then immediately licked his face to see if there was any more.

"That's really good. Where did you learn that?"

Remus just smiled and shook his head. "Harry, I've been doing farm chores since I was six and a half. I'd be more worried if I couldn't do it. And just imagine this - when you go back to school, you can tell Hermione you've had milk straight from the cow."

Harry laughed so hard he had to lean against the rough wooden side of the stall, and Sadie the cow mooed in alarm. Remus calmed her again before finishing his work, explaining it to Harry as he did, and then taking the milk pail out of the stall and setting it with seven others lined up next to the door.

"We'll take it in when we go inside. You're not afraid of heights, are you - now there's a stupid question. I keep forgetting I'm not talking to Sirius or Davey (1), I'm talking to a Quidditch player. I'll go first." Remus motioned to a ladder that would take them about forty feet up, right into the hay loft.

Harry was near the top when Remus stopped and sat at the top of the ladder, blocking Harry from getting into the loft. "Harry."

Harry just stared at him. Remus had suddenly gone quite serious, and Harry wasn't sure why.

"Harry . . ." Remus seemed about to pose a difficult statement, so Harry tried to help him along with it, although he didn't do too good a job.

"Remus, my hands are starting to hurt."

"Er - sorry." Remus scooted back so Harry could get in a little closer. "Harry, I didn't want you out here yet because I've got something out here for you and I didn't want you to see it before breakfast, but I guess it really doesn't matter. I talked to a few people before I got it, and all of them agreed you'd like it, but if you don't I can -"

"Remus, the biggest Christmas gift I ever got from the Dursleys was a coat hanger. Can I just come up now?"

Remus pulled him hesitantly into the loft, keeping hold of his ward's shoulders - with good reason. Harry had barely started pulling himself forward into the dusty-smelling hay before a loud, shrill bark echoed through the dimly lit loft, and Harry was hit with ten pounds of ears, tail, paws, and fur. The puppy immediately launched itself into Harry's lap, barked again, stuck its nose in Harry's ear, and sniffed deeply.

"Hey, that tickles!" Harry laughed at the puppy and pushed it off his lap, and then his breath caught in his throat.

The puppy sitting in front of him was all black - except for a single patch of white fur, with its eye right in the very center, and it almost looked like . . .

"Harry? Hey, are you still in there?" Remus waved his hand in front of Harry's face. Harry twisted around (the puppy didn't seem very happy with being on the floor of the loft, so it had climbed right back into Harry's lap, effectively taking away his ability to use his legs) and stared, wide-eyed, at Remus, who reached forward to pull a piece of straw out of the teen's hair.

"Is it - it's - "

"He's male, Harry, about twelve weeks old. Pop called me a few weeks ago and said he'd seen the strangest thing -"

Harry yelped as the puppy stuck its cold wet nose between the buttons on his shirt, then blushed. "Sorry."

Remus grinned. "No problem. It's better than what he pulled yesterday when I came up to play with him so he wouldn't be alone - normally he's in the house, but I didn't want you to see him."

"What did he do?"

Remus pulled the wandering fuzz ball away from the ladder. "He peed on me."

Harry laughed loudly, and the puppy started to bark. "But you were saying -"

"Oh - right. So Pop told me about this little fellow, and I asked if he could put down a deposit and I'd pay him back - and then he told me he'd already brought the dog home."

Harry stared, openmouthed. "Your dad bought me a dog?"

"No, no, not really," Remus answered, and Harry stared at him, perplexed. Remus hurried to explain. "Around here, we still do a lot of trading for things. It's easier for everyone to get what they need that way, with no hard feelings. So anyway, Pop fixed Widow Harper's fence - she's the one whose dog had the pups, really sweet woman, got her fence knocked down in a storm - in exchange for the puppy. People do that kind of thing around here."

Harry pulled the puppy back in his lap, not quite sure what to say. "He looks like he has a star over his eye."

Remus smiled. "I know. I've actually been looking since September, but I didn't want one that was all black because -" He stopped the train of words as though he'd cut it off with a knife. "Anyway, I took one look at him - Pop said if he wasn't what I was looking for then he and Mum would keep him and train him as a farm dog - and thought he was perfect. I figure he can stay in my quarters during the school year and we can take him out after classes and on the weekends, and then in the summer we'll find a nice place with a big yard and you can teach him to play fetch without running away, if he's not as dumb as my first dog was - that hound couldn't find a steak on a clean tile floor." He paused. "I know you just met him, Harry, but we need to start trying to get him to answer to a name, so if you could try to think of one today -" The puppy interrupted by sniffing Remus' pant cuff and lifting his leg. "Oh, no you don't, not again!" Remus hurried out of the path of attack, scooting backward on all fours, and Harry started laughing again.

"Can we call him Snuffles?"

* * *

Severus pushed aside a pile of carefully chopped onions - he'd opted to help Everjoice in the kitchen as opposed to going out to the barn with Remus and Harry, seeing as he already knew what was out there and thought Remus might want some time alone with his ward - and started in on a red pepper (2) with sure hands before giving voice to the question that had been vaguely bothering him all night. "Mrs. - Everjoice?"

Everjoice looked up from the bread dough she was kneading (for dinner that afternoon, of course) and smiled. "You gawt somethin' on you mind, hun?"

Severus overlooked the hated pet name in favor of asking his question. "That girl - the redheaded woman - I think Remus called her Catherine -"

"Thayat's Catherine, sure 'nough, hun. Whuddabout 'er?"

"Why in the name of Merlin does she keep calling Remus 'Angel Boy'?"

Everjoice slowed and stopped her kneading, thinking a bit. "Wayull, hun, nobawdy really knows fur sure anymawah. But it seems ter me't it started when - you do know Remus is adopted, right?"

Severus nodded - he'd heard about Alkyne Macnair's unwitting "outing" of the blonde professor.

"Wayull, we - Remus 'n I - my husband, Remus, Ah mean - we wanted t'adopt a li'l boy, 'cause we had more'n enough ladies 'round at that point, 'n so we went inter town to thayt Ministry orphanage they got fer kids'at cain't be put in Muggle homes, you know. Catherine went with us - she was only 'bout, oh, Ah'm gonna say 'bout eight years old er so, 'n she di'n't want no li'l boy in the house to be sure. So we weren't even sure we was gonna get one, but we desahded tuh look anyway. We was tawkin' ter the head nurse, Remus 'n I, 'n Catherine went out inter the garden tuh tawk tuh the childrun out theya. All'v a sudden she comes runnin' in en grabs mah skirt, 'n sayuhs, she does, 'Mama, I think I just met an angel.' So Ah ast 'er what she's tawkin' 'bout, you know, 'n she points ter this li'l boy settin' in the corner all by hisself - kinder biggish fer a li'l one, Ah thawt, 'n with hayurr jist red's a carrot, but when we goes over to tawk to 'im he's just p'lite's kin be, all yes'm 'n no'm 'n thank ya very much. So's then Catherine says, 'I wouldn't mind havin' a brother if'n he was like that,' 'n Ah ast the head nurse whut a boy thayat nayce is still doin' here. Well she says he's a werewolf. Thayat almost done it raht theya - too dangerous ter keep a boy layk thayat on a farm, thinks we, 'n then Catherine says werewolves won't hurt animals 'cordin' t'what she's been readin' in 'er sister's schoolbooks, 'n he'd have plenny'a' room ter run 'round without bein' a bother t'anybawdy, 'n it ain't fayar fer a boy layk thayat te hafta live 'n an orphanage, n' so we brought 'im home not a week laytah. Catherine she comes runnin' out inter the front out theya - din't even rec'o'nize 'im til 'e turned 'is head to look at 'er, 'n then she comes tearin' across the yard yellin' 'We got the angel boy!' 'n it just kinder stuck aftah thayat."

Severus pushed the cut vegetables into a glass bowl. "He speaks very highly of all of you."

Everjoice chuckled, a warm, honeyed sound that filled the kitchen. "Wayull Ah should hope so. Don't wawnt'im ter feel alone, he's had 'bout 'nough'a thayat."

At that point Harry and Remus staggered into the kitchen, carrying two milk pails apiece and laughing. Remus had a backpack on, and as soon as he'd set the milk pails down he pulled it off carefully and set it on the kitchen table, opening it and starting to pull out eggs. "Here, Harry, you've got the pencil, date them for me - we always use the older ones first and what we can't use we'll take to town."

"Ah kin assure you we'll be usin' 'em all fer today, at least," Everjoice commented, and held her hand out. "Jist you pass'em on ovah. We've been a-waitin' on you all. Pour yesself a glass 'a milk, Sugah, b'fore th' cream rises."

* * *

Breakfast was excellent, barring the fact that Harry discovered he didn't really care for grits, nor yet for spiced apples, and felt quite embarrassed about it until Gram hugged him and told him she didn't mind, and it surely would be a boring world if "a body was always takin' a likin' ter the same thangs 's another body did all er the time." It was a cliched phrase, Mississippi accent or no, but Harry still felt much better after she gave him some toast and told him to see if the preserves were more to his liking (they were). Only once did he look up after biting into his toast and omelette, and that was to laugh secretly at Remus, who was sitting across from him acting like he hadn't eaten in years. When everyone was finished (it took a good forty-five minutes) Gram set the dishes to wash themselves, explaining that there were very few times she ever did it because things were more likely to get broken, but for today she thought they'd manage. It didn't take too long to settle everyone into the living room and get the little kids occupied with stockings full of apples, oranges, chocolate coins, and tiny presents like mittens and Jacob's Ladders. Quickly following that, Remus began to pull packages out from under the tree and pass them around to the people old enough to truly appreciate them - these being the people who cared for what was in the packages, not for whatever new trend those packages might conceal (Barbie dolls were a nauseating and recurrent favorite among the rugrats). Harry noticed that most of them were roughly the same size and shape, and that only tags and paper colors seemed to vary. Suddenly Remus stopped, holding in his lap a package covered in moving (Harry assumed they were supposed to be falling) snowflakes, and groaned. "_Mum_ . . . "

Gram gently pulled a toddler's forgotten sweater from under the tree as she answered. "Remus Lupin, you may be thirty-six years old but you're still my child. Now you c'n open it, er else Ah c'n open it for you 'n leave it up on your bed."

Remus blushed heavily and began to pull the paper carefully off the package. When at last he'd pulled the final swathes of wrapping from around the contents, Harry leaned over to see what was inside that Remus found so embarrassing. He didn't see anything to be upset over. A cardigan sweater (3)(well, that would explain Remus' seemingly never-ending supply of them) was wrapped around two dime novels (4) and a large bar of Hazelnut Creme chocolate from Honeydukes. Next to the books and chocolate bar sat a coffee mug with words on it. Remus picked it up and turned it around to read it, grinning wryly. "Mum?"

"Whut is it, Remus?"

Remus turned the cup one more time, as though to make sure he'd read it correctly. "What, exactly, does the phrase 'love me, love my socks' have to do with a coffee mug?" Several people started laughing as Gram just pointed peacefully to the toe socks Remus was wearing - a gift from some smart aleck at the school, they were covered in foot-related words and definitions taken right out of the dictionary. Remus wiggled his toes defensively before passing a package to Harry.

Harry had received many wonderful gifts since he'd started at Hogwarts and made friends: A Firebolt, an Invisibility Cloak, exciting books, and, for his sixteenth birthday, a small photo album with pictures of himself and his friends (courtesy of Remus, who apparently had a camera stashed away _somewhere_). Never before had a gift led him to cry.

"Crying" might even have been too harsh a term for the action - certainly he blinked away tears, but he was by no means bawling like a toddler. This package was from Gram - a 'relative' who had never even met him before yesterday - and the time, and thought, she'd put into it was clear and present. Harry hadn't gotten a sweater (for which he was secretly thankful; he already had far more than he knew what to do with), but instead a crocheted throw blanket that was absolutely the perfect size for curling up under in the common room with his homework. A small pouch on the front of the blanket revealed that it could be folded up and used as a pillow. Harry looked up to say thank you, but as he did Remus waved him back toward the parcel. "Harry, you're missing the best part. Open it up, she never puts only one thing in a package."

Harry carefully unfolded the remainder of the blanket and discovered his own mug, sort of an hourglass shape that fit his hand comfortably, with four flavored tea bags (orange, lemon, cinnamon, and chamomile) stuck inside it. Next to the mug was a Mason jar that, according to the label on the lid, contained enough homemade hot chocolate mix for two cups - "Add one good friend and stir. Serve hot." Intrigued now, Harry began turning out various folds of the blanket and looking inside the pouch. He found a book of puzzles and riddles, a Rubik's cube, and a wooden pull-string top (5). He was slightly stunned - he'd never had toys of his own before, not even a stuffed animal as a baby, and it had never occurred to him that there were still toys for which he wasn't "too old." He stacked the items carefully near the arm of the sofa and reached under the tree to find out what else was under there, and for whom, fully enjoying Christmas for the first time.

It took nearly two hours to open everything, if only because there were so many people and presents, and of course thank-yous had to be said and pictures taken. Harry wasn't sure how on earth he was going to fit everything into his trunk. In addition to Gram's package, he was now the proud and grateful owner of several books on various subjects, a gift certificate to Quality Quidditch Supplies (he hadn't even been aware gift certificates existed in the Wizarding world), a set of drawing pencils and a sketch book, a journal, a portable cassette player (charmed to work even under high-magic conditions), several cassettes, a framed (and rather goofy, truth be told) picture of his friends at Fright Night, and some kind of pen with ink that changed colors and never ran out (and it worked on parchment, on top of all that). In addition to the gifts from his new family, he'd gotten his annual Weasley sweater (green, with a Snitch on the front), a Chudley Cannons poster from Ron, a rather heavy book that seemed to be some kind of Dark Arts dictionary from Hermione, a tin of treacle fudge from Hagrid (he hid it carefully in the fear that some unsuspecting child might cement their jaws together with it), and several small and varied packages of candy from a few of his less close friends. Harry was slightly surprised to find a blue-wrapped package from Luna, containing two seashells and an interesting piece of driftwood, along with a note telling him she was on holiday in Wales and while it was much too cold to swim she'd found these while walking along the beach and thought he might like them. It was while he examined one of the shells that Remus (the little one) picked up a small box shaped object from the floor and handed it to Remus (the older one). Apparently it had been lost in the sea of wrapping paper and ribbons, and it was only when the rugrats went searching to see if anything had been missed that it was found. Remus turned it curiously, looking at it from all angles and directions, before slipping off the brown paper and finding a simple wooden box with gold-colored hinges, lock, and catch. He swung the catch and raised the lid before gasping loudly enough for several people to draw completely erroneous conclusions as to what was in the box, and for Harry, Mary Anne, and Melody to all scramble around to see it.

Sitting in a small square of white tissue paper was the dragon's-tooth necklace Harry had seen in his Dark Arts class, the braided leather cord carefully coiled beneath and around it. Remus pulled it out of the box in disbelief before turning to Severus, who was sitting in the corner with a bemused half-smirk and a single raised eyebrow.

"Severus, I can't take this, these are - these are really, really -"

"I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't want you to have it."

"But it's not -" Remus relaxed his grip on the cord and it slipped from his fingers. Mary Anne caught it before it was lost in the multicolored paper tides frozen around Remus' feet, and began examining it minutely while Severus stood and moved to crouch on the floor next to his partner. "I suggest you put it on before you lose it, unless you have someplace you care to keep it."

Mary Anne looked up from her scrutiny of the titanic fang. "Ooh, Remy, you should wear it, not just put it away! Dragon teeth are supposed to protect you and bring you good luck."

Remus plucked it hesitantly from his sister's fingers and turned it over and over in his hands before Severus drew the ends of the cord out of Remus' palms and pulled them around behind his neck. "The cord is charmed so you don't have to tie it - the ends seal themselves together when they touch."

"So how do you get it off?" Melody stared at the now-seamless cord.

"Pull on it. But if it catches on something it won't fall off because the charm is activated by heat."

"Ooh, that's really clever . . . " Mary Anne stared in awe at the black-haired man moving back to his seat in the corner. "I wish I could do things like that."

"Don't look at me that way," Severus admonished his teenage admirer. "I failed my Charms N.E.W.T. because I could never remember which spells were for Charms and which ones were for Transfiguration. My cousin sent it to me that way."

Harry snickered slightly at the idea that Severus had failed an N.E.W.T., only to be greeted with a glare. "If you can tell me what kind of useful purpose is served by giving a tea saucer a pair of wings, I will gladly allow you to laugh at me all you wish." Harry sat in silence. Severus smirked. "I didn't think so."

* * *

Remus knocked on the door of the bedroom and walked in without pause. The knock was really nothing more than habit - Harry wouldn't have had time to blink, much less cover himself up if he was indecent (Remus winced slightly at the memory of Severus' unannounced arrival in the room last night - who wanted to be caught staring contemplatively at a pair of lavender pajamas covered in sheep?), but it did give him warning that he was about to lose whatever minimal amount of privacy the Lupin farmhouse afforded. Remus discovered Harry laying on the lower bunk with his newly aquired copy of The Arabian Nights. Harry rolled over and continued reading, absolutely oblivious to the fact that his guardian had just entered the room. Unable to think of an appropriate way to rouse his ward, Remus simply trotted over and plunked right down on the old feather mattress (well, it _was _his bed). Harry looked up from the red leather volume laying on the pillow.

"Harry, I wanted to ask you something."

Harry sat up. Snuffles jumped from the rug into his lap, and Harry spent several minutes laughing and trying to avoid the puppy now slobbering happily all over his face. When at last he'd calmed the black and white canine with a good scratch behind the ears, he looked up at Remus in consternation. "What did I do?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Nothing that I'm aware of . . . but should I be asking you what you did?"

"Well . . . I kinda knocked one of the five year olds in the snow when we were having a snowball fight and he started crying, but I don't think I hurt him. And, I mean, I helped him up and all, it was just an accident, but -"

Remus started laughing. "If by chance you're referring to Michael, Mum fixed him up with a cup of chocolate and a jelly biscuit."

Harry sighed in relief, and then instantly became wary again. "So what's going on that's so important you had to tear yourself away from a huge plate of biscuits -" here he pointed at his own little tray of frosted sugar biscuits and a few pastries, sitting on the nightstand - "to come up here and ask me?"

"Well, Severus is fairly occupied. Apparently he enjoys a good game of gin rummy, and Catherine and Mary Anne and Bugsy are some of the best players in England. At least that's what Mum always says. And I wanted to talk to you privately - I suppose eventually it might involve him, but it really doesn't right now."

Harry stared. "I haven't heard that in months. Dear Diary, guess what?"

Remus bopped him playfully with one of the numerous throw pillows he kept on his childhood bed for some reason unknown to anyone else. "I spend plenty of time with you, you - you - insolent little Gryffindor brat!"

Harry bopped him back. "That argument would be a great one if you hadn't been in Gryffindor." Snuffles barked in agreement and licked Remus' face.

Remus laughed, and then slowly got serious again. "What do you think of my folks?"

Harry put his book on the nightstand excitedly. "They're awesome. I mean, I wish there were a few closer to my age (6), but they're still really cool. I can't believe your mom got me all that stuff when she'd never even met me. I feel like I'm really with family. Well - Ron's family treats me like family, but they still feel like they're just the family of my best friend, you know?"

Remus smiled a little. "Mum loves pulling people into the family. I imagine you guessed that already, though, seeing as there's so many of us."

Harry nodded. "I still can't believe you're adopted. They all treat you just like they treat each other."

Remus frowned. "Most people don't act like the Dursleys, Harry. I don't know why they treated you that way. To be honest, I really don't want to know. But I did want to ask you if -"

"If I'd like to be adopted." Harry scratched Snuffles behind the ears, and the giant-footed canine stuck his nose in Harry's sleeve with a 'whuff.'

"How did you know that?"

"Heard you talking to your mum after dinner."

Remus reached over to scratch the puppy's back. "I don't want you to think you have to make an immediate decision, Harry, and I definitely don't want you to think I'm saying you have to forget your past if you say yes. But I saw how you grew up and I thought maybe you'd -" Remus stopped in frustration. "I'm not sure how to put this. You know we're your family, Harry, even if the Ministry says we're not, legally, right?"

Harry nodded.

"It's only - I thought perhaps you'd like it to be legal, in addition to whatever your heart tells you."

Harry grinned. Then the grin vanished and he looked worried. "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I wouldn't have to - you know - change my name and all that, would I? I mean I know my last name would become Lupin, but I don't -"

"You'd want to keep your birth name and appearance, is that it?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that, Harry, and it's perfectly possible. There are adoptions of all kinds. I chose to leave my past behind because I didn't particularly care for my birth parents, but I can understand perfectly why you'd want to keep your heritage."

"Can I think about it?"

Remus gave him a look that was some kind of bizarre cross of "you're kidding me, right?" and "haven't you been listening to a word I said?"

"Of course you can think about it, Harry. Things like that are all the better for thinking over."

Harry leaned over to hug his guardian, and Snuffles leapt out of his lap in alarm, settling on the pillows with a look so reminiscent of a disdainful Sirius that both Harry and Remus laughed.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"No matter what happens . . . thanks."

Remus hugged his ward even tighter, feeling his family was complete at last. "Pleasure's all mine."

* * *

REFERENCE NOTES:

(1) Davey Gudgeon. I love using him, simply because I figure either Remus has an incredible memory or else he and Davey were somewhat friends, since Remus remembered that Davey Gudgeon was the one who almost lost an eye to the Whomping Willow (PoA). Most of the adults I know would have said "A boy almost lost . . ." not "A boy named Davey Gudgeon almost lost . . . " because it wouldn't be any kind of consequence to them, unless they'd known the boy in question.

(2) These are actually only the ripest form of green peppers, for anyone who thinks I'm about to give them all fire-breathing abilities. The food they are making is what my mom calls a "southwest omelette," which has onions, green (or red, when we can get them) peppers, a bit of hot sauce (though not much), some pepper, and several other kinds of vegetables like green onions. All of that is mixed together with eggs and scrambled, and you serve it hot. I hate eggs with a passion, but even I will eat a "southwest omelette" without too much argument on the rare occasions that my mom makes it.

(3) I'm well aware that in the books Remus is constantly described as wearing "shabby robes," and I feel that his character was horribly misrepresented in the movie so I usually stick to canon description. Like Remus' hair, however (blonde not brown), I think the movie did do him a good deal more justice with the wardrobe he was shown in. Therefore, I'm sticking with the old (and often endearingly dorky) cardigans and worn-out trousers of the movie. RANDOM NOTE: Did anyone else notice that while Remus' trousers were supposed to be way too big (to emphasize the idea that he's lost weight, he's poor, etc.), _he never wears a belt or suspenders? _It's true - the sides, legs, and pockets all look like he should be too thin for them, but the waist fits perfectly. Anyway . . . I just had to point that out for those who don't pay attention to these things, because they're not obsessed with movie inconsistencies (they make me laugh) . . .

(4) I think most people know what these are, but for those who have been living in a monastery since 1930 (or who were born after 1980 . . . I guess many of us fall into that category too), these are your basic paperback books. Dime novels are usually mysteries or romance novels, and were originally printed for people who either wanted to carry a book with them to read (those big leather-bound editions are heavy), or who couldn't afford "real" books (did I mention they're also super-expensive if it's real leather?). The original V.C. Andrews books (Here There be Thorns, Flowers in the Attic, etc.) are examples of dime novels, so called because when they first came out, they were advertised as costing _only a dime_.

(5) Again, this is an antiquated item, but good things never die . . . I have one of these. The string is attached to another piece of wood. You wind it around the dowel part of the top, pull the string, and watch that baby go. I once timed one to see how long it would spin (it went for a minute and twenty-two seconds before it hit the sugar bowl and fell on the floor), and let me tell you, the things they're coming out with nowadays will never beat these old tops. Ask your grandparents if they perhaps still have one lying around - they're unbelievably fun!

(6) The age structure of Remus' family is based loosely on my own experiences at our family reunion - you have a lot of older people, a handful of people in their 20's to early 30's, a few more in their 40's, an unbelievable group of "babies" and little kids, but only 7 teenagers representing about 160 people. That's because the teens are usually the "change of life" kids of the moms in their forties/early fifties, while the "usual" kids of those parents are now the 20's and 30's group, and they have all the little ones. So yes, this structure is possible (in response to several people who said "no way"), and yes, it does happen. Most of the babies you're hearing about are change of life toddlers, but there are some adults I simply haven't bothered mentioning.


	21. 20: With Defeat

**LINER NOTES:**

Other than the **rating of T/PG-13** for **homosexuality, violence, injuries, **and **adult language**, there are none - I'm only going to answer reviews, then post, because this is REALLY long tonight!

**DewNymph: **I appreciate your Britpicking! I honestly do. I'm slowly revising all 20 chapters for formatting and text, but it's slow going. I hope you'll be able to help me in future, too. And incidentally, a friend of mine told me that what we call "dime novels" you all call "penny dreadfuls," so that'll be changed when I get there, too. Cows do milk in winter, just not as much - and I was sorta going for the old Sherlock Holmesy feeling with the helping-each-other-because-cash-is-a-commodity-out-here feeling. Remus' mother is the only Southern one, but she sorta blends right in with everyone else because they start unconsciously being like her! I'm considering the idea that maybe in a future chapter, Harry will try to make grits . . .

**Yulara**: Ahh, the joys of a school computer (don't tell Ma I said that, LOL). As I told DewNymph, I'm working on the Britishness, and as I'm telling you, some of Gram's basic pronounciations will be listed in the next chapter.

**Eleonora1**: You know Harry, he has NO logic! (Actually this comes from me . . . I would rather sleep in my underwear than wear summer pajamas to bed in winter. Why? No idea . . . but it's true.) And the Jacob's Ladder is a toy that can be moved in many different ways because it is nothing but a bunch of wooden blocks held together by ribbon. They're quite fun, try looking them up online. As I told Yulara, I don't have time tonight to "translate" Gram's speech but I will do so soon.

**Vodevil**: I'm pleased to meet you! LOL . . . I didn't "borrow" Severus-Scrooge from anyone, but I guess that goes to show that it's a pretty popular idea. I think the rest of your questions are answered above . . .

Have a great read!

Haruka Lune

* * *

Severus awoke, momentarily startled by the sheer intensity in difference between waking up in a stone dungeon and a wooden attic. It was a moment after this that he had to wonder why he had wakened - though not a sound sleeper by any means, he was certainly not in the habit of just waking up for no reason. He rolled over and quickly made an unpleasant discovery - the other side of the small bed was empty and Remus was most of the way across the attic bedroom, walking lazily, wearing no dressing gown (a very bad sign indeed), and without a light in his hand.

"Bloody sonambulist," Severus growled as he slipped quietly from the bed. The old wooden floorboards would creak and squeak loudly enough to wake a deaf man if he moved quickly, and he had forty feet of ancient planking to cover in a very few seconds before -

"Oh, shit, Merlin, no, no, no, no, no no no no no, this is not happening . . . " Severus increased his pace as much as he felt he could safely do, Remus already on the edge of the stairs and the door had been left open and the staircase was old and steep and -

Remus took four steps before the disaster came. The amateurly-repaired fifth stair he'd warned Severus and Harry about gave way under his weight. Remus hurtled forward. A sickening, gunshot snap echoed in the old wooden stairwell and Remus flew awake with a despairing cry, falling the entire length of the staircase before he stopped at the bottom. Severus hurried down it, skipping the broken stair and with only a half-uttered warning cry to Harry before he knelt at his partner's side. Remus whimpered and reached for his ankle. Severus looked down at it and tried not to gag. It certainly sent his stomach into an odd twist.

The bone had broken in Remus' ankle. His foot was already black, blue, and rapidly swelling, blood leaking out where the bone had pierced right though his skin. He'd collected several splinters, slivers, cuts, and bruises on his way down, and the T-shirt he'd worn to bed was ripped in six separate places by broken wood. Severus' still sleep-dazed brain was in the process of wondering what the hell he should do now when Everjoice bent down near her son's head (Severus hadn't even registered the banging open of several doors, nor yet the crying of recently wakened toddlers and kindergarten kids) and wiped his face with a cool cloth. "Now thayar, Remus, you just keep still'n'all 'n Ah'll go get -"

Everjoice Lupin never needed to finish her sentence. Catherine's husband, Stephen, was already at hand and examining the ankle - by a sheer miracle nothing else was broken. Severus gripped his partner's hand, not comprehending why he of all people should need comfort from someone injured because of his own negligence, when it was clear he should be the one doing the comforting. He heard several disconnected words, "- hospital in the morning - no way to tell - keep it wrapped until - he'll be all right if we only - anyone have a pair of tweezers and some peroxide? - No, no, that's not - we should - in the living room maybe -"

And then he fainted.

* * *

Severus was not a man, contrary to popular belief, who enjoyed blood and gore and violence. In fact he had chosen not to become a Healer for the single reason that he didn't think he could stomach it. Mass killing on a battlefield was one thing - you could turn off your emotions like a faucet and then later, safe and alone, shatter like a piece of fine china dropped on a stone floor - but blood, injuries, terminal sickness were all too much for him. He had killed his own father - entirely by accident, though he regretted only the fact that he didn't regret the death - when he was only seventeen and thereby earned himself a place among the Death Eaters, hiding in the back of the circle when people were being tortured and often throwing up afterward. He still had nightmares about those things, even though Voldemort placed such a high value on his resident Potions Master that Severus was no longer required to attend those grisly meetings. He still had even worse nightmares about the feeling of his father's hands around his throat, trying to crush his airpipe because his only still-surviving child was "defective," because Snape Senior had no tolerance for imperfections even as small as a birthmark, forget an alternative sexual orientation, and then of his own finally finding the strength to push the older man off him and right into a marble mantelpiece. The problem was that in these dreams Snape Senior didn't die instantly of a crushed skull; no, he would pull himself back up and the doors would disappear and Severus was left with nowhere to run, covered in his own father's blood and brains and the dread of a certain death. At this point he would wake himself up violently and in a cold sweat, often to spend the rest of the night trying to fall back asleep. The sound of that breaking skull had stayed with him for the next twenty years, and Remus' accident had opened the whole stinking hellpit back up again.

The blackhaired man was now sitting in a chair next to a hospital bed, wishing that werewolf powers could heal broken bones as well as superficial cuts and bruises. Except for the cast to the knee and the extraordinarily pale skin, Remus looked completely normal. The Healer at St. Mungo's had insisted on running a secondary set of tests, just in case there were bone fragments stuck into important other parts, like veins or, worse, the Achilles' tendon, which they'd already had to do surgery on. If it were permanently damaged, Remus would never walk again - fortunately it seemed to be healing already. There was no fast and easy magical way to repair this problem - Remus' werewolf blood would just reject any potion fed into it for the purpose of healing him, because he didn't normally need it for one and he was allergic to witch hazel for another - and so Remus was going to have to haul himself around Hogwarts on crutches for Merlin knew how long until he recovered. Luckily the castle seemed to like Remus, and so he would probably have a fairly easy time of it. Severus was the one at a loss. He'd never thought of Remus, the survivor, the tough one, the perservering, as being vulnerable. The idea that the man could be injured was completely foreign to him.

* * *

He came to terms with it over the next week between New Year's and the return to Hogwarts, when Remus' injury was made known to the student body so people could adjust accordingly. His chats with Severus were moved from the dungeon office and quarters to the Defense classroom, where he'd started doing his office work (it saved him a climb up another set of stairs) (1). Luckily his quarters were also on the second floor, as was the Infirmary (2), and of course the Great Hall was only a staircase and a corridor away, so he wasn't too badly off. Students moved out of his way in the halls, often offering him a hand with whatever he might be carrying, and someone was always ready to help him down the Grand Staircase to the first floor and into the Great Hall. After two weeks Madame Pomfrey allowed Remus a joint brace instead of the almost full-leg cast, giving him even more mobility on his crutches. He started going outside again, occasionally sitting by the Forbidden Forest and watching for birds. It was in this way that Severus left him some time after noon on a rather warm Saturday (for January in England, anyway), returning to Remus' "office" (a small table in the corner of the Defense classroom) to pick up a double lesson plan he'd left there. It was while searching for the parchments that he found the second copy of the Marauders' Map, unwiped, which Remus had been using to track the movements of various people - nobody could hide from the Marauders' Map, so it could be used to follow the patterns of people the Order wished to keep an eye on. This copy, the master copy, extended the Map all the way into Hogsmeade and through the Forbidden Forest and the lake.

It showed every single person within those parameters, even the merpeople and centaurs.

It never lied, according to Remus.

You'd always show up, even if you were under an Invisibility Cloak or some kind of invisibility potion.

Which was why Severus dropped his books and went running for the Headmaster's office when he realized that Remus was no longer on it.

* * *

"I just don't know, you know?" Harry fiddled with his quill. He, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were sitting in the library, pretending to work. They actually had been working until Harry brought up his Christmas night conversation with Remus, at which point everyone stopped working and started discussing.

"It's not like you're being disloyal to your parents by wanting a family, mate," Ron pointed out. "And it's not so uncommon. Percy's adopted too, you know."

Harry swiveled his head so fast it was a wonder it didn't fall off. "_Percy_ is adopted?"

Ron nodded nonchalantly. "His parents were too young to keep him, or something like that."

Harry processed this new piece of information and fiddled with the blue and bronze prefect's badge Luna had taken off her robes and put on the table (3). "It's just - I don't know if I want to do that. I feel like I'd be losing some kind of link to my parents, or something. I mean, Remus is great, and I really like him, but he's my _friend_. It would just be so weird having him as a parent, too, and -" Harry broke off abruptly with a shrug. Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, and Luna spoke up. "Even if you choose to make him your family now, Harry, you're not losing anyone. They'll still be waiting for you."

Harry nodded, and then Hermione chimed in. "Do you love him?"

Harry stared at her. "Huh?"

"I said, do you love him?" Hermione waited patiently.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry willed away the anger boiling in his stomach. How was he supposed to know if he loved Remus or not? It wasn't like he had anything to judge against.

"What do you think?" Hermione was starting to lose her patience. "You know Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love you, and Dumbledore does, too, in his own way, and I think of you like the brother I never had, Harry. And we all know Remus loves you to death. What do you think it means?"

Harry considered that. He was trying to come up with a frame of reference, something he could judge by, when his mind flashed back to about a week before his birthday, at which point Remus had taken him ice skating for the first time.

_"Skating is easy, Harry," Remus teased. "It's the falling down that's the hard part." _

Harry stood on the edge of the ice, unsure. He'd had to retie his skates four times before he was able to stand up without either falling out of them or getting the blades caught on the laces. Why should he have any better success on the ice itself?

"Come on, Harry, it's fun," Remus insisted, holding his hands out in front of himself, palms up. "I'll pull you until you get the feel of the ice. All you have to do is find your center of balance. It's no different than when we went roller skating, really."

Harry shook his head and tried to let go of the barrier between the floor and the ice so he could move backward away from the edge of the ice and back to the bench, but his ankles wobbled. "This is a lot different. I'll just wait for you, okay?"

Now Remus shook his head. "Come on. I won't let anything happen to you." He gestured with his hands, indicating that Harry should step forward. Finally the teen reached for his guardian's hand hesitantly and stepped cautiously onto the ice. Remus grinned and started skating slowly backward, a feat Harry was certain he'd never master. They'd gone about a quarter of the way around the rink before Harry tried to move on his own and sent both of them toppling to the ice, landing squarely in Remus' lap. Remus started laughing. "Do you think I'm Santa Claus, you silly little boy?" he teased, sliding easily out from beneath Harry's weight and standing again, offering Harry his hand.

Harry tried twice to scramble to his feet before grabbing at Remus' arm and hauling himself up. "I'm never doing this again."

"It's all right to fall, Harry. Everyone does it once in awhile, even the professionals. Here, just push your foot like this . . ." Remus demonstrated the short stroke that would propel him forward. "Don't push too hard or you'll fall down. Come on, now, small steps. Go ahead, Harry, I'm behind you."

Harry let his hand linger on the wall between floor and ice, wishing he could just launch himself over it and be out. Then he felt Remus push gently on the small of his back, and threw his arms out, startled. He lunged forward with his foot to catch his balance, and realized with a start that he was moving.

"I guess - I guess loving someone is trusting that they're going to be there for you, and knowing you wouldn't be the same if they weren't," Harry finally tried, hesitantly, and the girls all nodded.

"That's part of it," Hermione encouraged. "But there's more to it than that."

"What?" Harry started to feel irritated again.

"It's quite simple, Harry. Just think about it."

Harry did. For no apparent reason the picture of Severus placing a worn leather cord around Remus' neck flashed into his mind, and he was fairly certain he'd gotten the last bit. "And wanting the best for that person, right?"

Hermione nodded. "So do you love him?"

Harry considered. He'd certainly felt a good deal more than just gratitude when Remus had rescued him from Privet Drive. He'd been excited at the prospect of not being a slave anymore, the idea that he had someone to talk to and laugh with. And then there was some sort of comfortable feeling he couldn't explain, but he knew it was what had made him sit across from Remus in the McDonald's where they stopped to eat, so he could see his new guardian's face. He wanted to be able to talk, and listen, and learn. It was the reason he'd hoarded Muggle spare change for months, so he could buy a copy of The Phantom of the Opera in the original French because Remus wanted one. That wordless feeling was what had propelled him out of bed in the middle of the night to find out why everyone was gathering at the bottom of the staircase at the house in Devonshire, and what had prompted him to inch his way down the staircase to help his guardian. It was the reason the two of them had spent a day in August sitting on the balcony apartment, elbows-deep in paper-mache, making a volcano and laughing over the stupidest things in the world.

"I - I think so," Harry offered in response to Hermione's question. "I'm pretty sure."

Hermione smiled as Ginny added her two cents. "So you're really family already. It's just a matter of names and things, you know," she reasoned, but then Hermione frowned and cut her off. "Actually it's much more complicated than that, Ginny. You know how the Ministry is - if Harry was adopted, it would provide him with an extra safety net, so to speak, against being taken away from Remus on some trumped-up charge of incompetent parenting."

Ginny nodded. Harry frowned. "It's still so - " Ron cut him off. "Mate, you can't keep on thinking about what everyone else is going to think about it or you're never going to get anywhere, see? There's always going to be people who're going to say you took the easy way out or that you're being stupid or something. Remus doesn't care what people think of him because he's gay or a werewolf or because he doesn't really do what people think he should all the time, right? Don't you think he'd've given up long ago if it mattered to him what people were thinking?"

Harry grinned at his friends. "You know what, you guys, you're right. I'm going to tell Remus tonight that I want to -"

"ALL STUDENTS ARE TO REPORT DIRECTLY TO THEIR DORMITORIES IMMEDIATELY. STAFF IS TO MEET IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE."

The five friends looked between each other and paled. Only Ginny and Hermione had never heard that announcement before - Ginny because she'd been in the Chamber of Secrets, and Hermione because she was Petrified at the time. Harry grabbed his books, suddenly terrified. "Come on. You heard McGonagall. Whatever's going on here isn't good, we'd better get out of here."

* * *

"Severus, you are quite certain that -"

"Headmaster, he showed me how this - map - works. If Remus isn't showing up on it, it's because he's not on Hogwarts grounds - or in Hogsmeade," Severus repeated, feeling perfectly irritated. Why would nobody believe him!

"And you're certain he couldn't simply have gone somewhere without telling -"

"With crutches and a broken ankle, Albus?" Severus shot the old man a withering glare. "I suppose next you're going to suggest he Apparated to London to buy chocolate. We're wasting time. The facts are quite simple: Remus is missing and there is no way he went to - wherever he is - under his own power. So what are we going to do about it?"

Minerva frowned at the Map. "Severus, we did tell the students to go to their dormitories, didn't we?"

Severus made an exasperated noise. "Of course we did, Minerva, why -"

"You have a student missing," she informed him, and pointed at the part of the map labeled "Slytherin Common Room and Dormitories." There was indeed a dot missing. Malfoy.

Severus paled as pieces snapped together in his brain, forming a macabre puzzle. He shoved his left sleeve up his arm and ran his fingers over the glowing Dark Mark. "There's a torture meeting going on."

"Are you quite sure, Severus?"

More aggravated than ever, Severus yanked his sleeve up even higher and showed the glowing, pulsing snake and skull to the entire room. "My so-called services to the Dark Lord are far too valuable - as is the knowledge I possess - for him to take my loyalty for granted. To him it is nothing but a small sacrifice to allow me to remain absent from such meetings, but to me it is far more, and he is well aware of the fact. Therefore he grants me the favor of staying away, but there is no way to stop the Mark from reacting, at least partially. There's a meeting going on, damn it, Albus, and we have a prime target for the Dark Lord who just _happens _to be missing, along with a certain student who has been repeatedly giving him trouble all year. Do you have any doubt what this means?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked around the room. "Professors, we have a serious problem."

"Serious problem my arse, Albus, we have to get him out of there - _damn!_" Severus swore as the Mark throbbed painfully. "Sod this, there's no time to waste listening to you lot talk at each other," Severus announced, jumping up from his seat and hurrying away, heedless of both Dumbledore and McGonagall as they tried to keep him from leaving.

"Fetch, wolf!" The Death Eaters weren't known for subtlety. Remus winced as someone wearing a silver ring slapped him on the back of the head, then pulled off the ring and tossed it in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure when his ankle had given out at last and he'd been forced to the ground - it had been somewhere between the kick to the back of the knee and the tussle ending in a Death Eater lying on the ground, holding his stomach and whimpering - but he knew he wouldn't be standing again for a long while - if ever. Voldemort wanted information - right after Malfoy, the little bastard, was inducted with honors into the ranks - and he was determined to get it. Remus was aware, suddenly, of a change in the air, a new piece of information to process, but his brain was about as useful as a sponge in the desert and he couldn't understand what was different. Then there was a hand held open in front of his face.

"You must see there is no other option, Remus Lupin," hissed a voice from above him, and he had to repress a shudder - how he hated that voice. "If you will only join me you will never go hungry again . . . " Remus looked up in disbelief. The man (was he a man? It was so hard to tell with people who'd mangled their bodies beyond recognition in efforts at immortality) was crazy. He had to be.

"You see, Lupin, my followers have discovered the secret the Ministry refuses to discover for itself . . . the cure, the cure you have waited for, all these years . . . join me, and know the life you have desired since your childhood . . . you will never want again . . . "

Remus bared his teeth in a snarl. "How stupid do you think I am to believe I'd listen to your lies?"

Voldemort laughed. The Death Eaters followed suit.

"On the contrary, Lupin, I believe you to be extraordinarily intelligent . . . which I why I cannot understand why you are still working for Albus Dumbledore, a meddling old fool who clearly does not understand or appreciate your many talents."

Remus cast his eyes around the circle. "And I suppose you're going to tell me all I have to do is give you every last bit of information I have about the Order, and then you'll give me this wonderful cure of yours."

"Correct."

"Prove it." Remus was stalling for time. It wasn't possible that they weren't coming -

"I do not abandon my followers when they are faithful, Remus Lupin. Where is Dumbledore for you now? You have done much, so much, for his cause and in return you get nothing. I reward those who are loyal to me. Turn for turn, Lupin. You will reap neither more nor less than you sow in my ranks. I do not give my word lightly."

"I don't need a reward for knowing I did the right thing." He struggled again to get to his feet.

"And yet - would you not give your life to wear a silver band on your finger? To eat with the same utensils as everyone around you? To run beneath a moon that bore you neither pain, nor malice, nor fear?" Voldemort bent, hooked a finger beneath a set chin, to look Remus more fully in the face. "Admit the truth, Lupin - you would gladly die to be able to live an ordinary life that did not involve being considered an animal by those too narrow-minded to understand the talents that are uniquely of your kind. You would give everything you own to be able to find employment without a struggle, to meet the parents of your students and shake their hands without that fear of taint. The life you are throwing away with your refusal, Lupin, is a life in which you could be one of the most trusted men in our world . . . your abilities fully appreciated for the first time in your memory . . . how can you sit in this circle, Lupin, and know you are discarding something you have wished for with every breath since you were four years old?"

* * *

Severus pushed his way to the front of the throng, seeking desperately to find out who was in that clearing. The sight of Remus' face sent his stomach into flip-flops. On one hand, Remus was alive and (mostly) well - on the other hand, it wasn't likely he'd stay that way for long. Severus stood behind the shoulder of Macnair, peering around the man's beefy arm to see what was happening. Remus was being propositioned by the Dark Lord. Well, that was - bad. Very bad. Catastrophic. Stronger men than Remus had fallen prey to sweet words and empty promises, and Severus could see from Remus' eyes that he was tempted - sorely tempted - and a single word, at this point, could be enough to drive him to the Dark Side with no hope of return.

"These people are all purebloods . . . " Remus looked round the circle, as though trying to confirm his belief in spite of the masks covering faces left and right. "How can you expect me to believe they would welcome me with open arms, after everything you've said? Fear of taint and all that?"

"I am fully aware that there are men among these, Lupin -" the Dark Lord swept the circle with his arm - "who have betrayed you, left you in the gutter, turned you away. Rest assured that they will be punished if you so choose. But know that they now are aware of your intelligence, your tenacity, your strength both mental and physical, and these are not foolish men. You were thrust from society by one among these -"

"Severus, lucky bastard," Lucius Malfoy whispered to the Death Eater standing next to him, and something in Remus' golden-amber eyes changed. They took on a steely glint.

"- but he will receive his own for that. All I ask in return for all this is a small favor, Lupin. You see, I offer you my hand as an equal, two men meeting in agreement . . . " the Dark Lord extended his hand once again. Severus took one desperate step to the side, not entirely sure what he would accomplish - and Remus threw his weight forward, grabbing - not the long white hand extended to him, but the wrist above it - hauled himself upward - and as the Dark Lord stumbled with Remus' weight, Remus spit on his outstretched hand.

"I don't grant favors to fork-tongued liars." Remus was breathing heavily with the effort of staying on his feet. Voldemort stared at his hand for all of about two very long seconds, and then wiped it on his robes, advancing on Remus with a snarl. "You dare to spit on me, you filthy beast, you - _halfblooded_ - how can you dare, when I have offered you -"

"I dare," Remus announced, shoulders heaving with the effort of speaking in spite of his pain, "I dare, because with one breath you tell me how wonderful I am, how you're going to - I don't know - raise me up and practically make me a king, and in the next you call me a filthy beast and your pretty little facade drops to the floor and shows the snakefaced monster hiding underneath it, _Voldemort._"

A shiver ran around the circle at the name. The Dark Lord pulled his wand and waved it. Remus shrieked. Severus panicked. What the hell had been so bloody painful as to pull a scream from a man standing on a broken ankle and nursing extraordinarily agonizing silver wounds?

Well, there was his answer to that - Remus fell to his knees, scrabbling with his fingers at his right wrist, where an intricate band made of silver curlicues was digging into his skin, growing tighter and deeper the more he struggled. The Dark Lord looked up from his handiwork, cast his eyes around the circle, and rested on Severus.

"Severus, how kind of you to join us at last. I see you have abandoned your high ideals about the extraction of information."

Shit. He'd forgotten to put on a mask, and now he'd just stepped right into the circle without one. Well, he hadn't put much store in them when he was seventeen and unbelievably stupid, either. Things hadn't changed too much, only the numbers, it seemed.

"The Muggle-loving fool was concerned. How am I to convince him of my intentions if I were to stay away, my Lord?" How he hated saying that . . .

"So you join us out of service to your . . . superior, is it? Look what our trap has caught this time, Severus - a most curious dog, isn't it?"

Severus allowed his eyes to rake over Remus to assess his injuries, though he tried not to betray his intentions. Serious damage to the broken ankle. Two silver burns on the back of his head and his lip. Blood from numerous scratches and scrapes. A hideous dark bruise on his cheekbone, surrounding a gash that was still bleeding a good deal. His bottom lip looked chewed, split, as though he'd bitten it to keep from screaming. He was shaking far more than would be expected from someone with so high a pain tolerance - the Cruciatus, then. Severus forced his mind back to what his "master" was saying.

"Young Draco Malfoy brought him to us, Severus, along with a rather strange tale."

Severus inclined his head and raised his eyebrows, hoping he looked surprised instead of dread-filled. An icy lining of fear formed around his stomach and twisted.

Sadly, he wasn't disappointed.

"Young Malfoy claims that you have been seen working rather - intimately - with this," the Dark Lord stated, executing a short kick to Remus' thigh. Remus clenched his teeth. "Yet in spite of the close relations you have been sharing, you have been unable to bring him to me - and the same goes for the Boy. Explain yourself."

Severus locked his knees beneath his robe, thanking every deity he could think of the name of (and a few he couldn't and so just called "and you, you know who you are") that he wasn't wearing the dragon's tooth necklace, or he would have been dead by now - protection from dragon magic aside, such a valuable artifact could not be "trusted" in the hands of someone who had made so serious a "blunder" as allowing this prime target to escape time and time and time again, never mind that he'd bought it himself, it would have been taken from him and he executed. In the meantime, he began placating those same deities, all but begging for help. He'd noticed that if he just trusted to Fate, he usually came out, if not on top, then high enough to avoid being crushed. While his brain ran along those lines, he opened his mouth and prayed something passable would come out. It did.

"The Boy is still far too protected to be removed, my Lord - not to mention I have no way of becoming close to him. What am I to do, give him a detention and tell him he will be serving it with me in the Dark Forest? He would go straight to the Headmaster and offer himself up as nothing more than a slave for every night remaining of his schooling rather than walk into those trees next to me. The wards on the castle cannot be changed by only one person - I can assure you I have tried. Dumbledore does not place so much trust in me that I could take the boy to Hogsmeade as an assistant. I have examined every path and found nothing clear. And the werewolf - my Lord, would even you dare to pit yourself against an unweakened werewolf? You see what he can do, even when he is injured. I think I have done my part by leaving him in the open, unprotected, and allowing someone unsuspected to remove him from the school. The members of the Order of the Phoenix are not so unintelligent that a double disappearance - that of two Hogwarts teachers, especially, and two members of the Order itself - would go unnoticed, as I assume you can tell by my presence. We would be found within mere hours, I executed, the werewolf removed to a place of so-called safety, and far too many people removed from our cause. I felt it more . . . prudent . . . to make one small sacrifice of information instead of dozens among our numbers, a far larger sacrifice that could have been prevented."

Most of the Death Eaters murmured in varying stages of agreement. The Dark Lord, however, did not appear moved.

"And yet you chose not to commune with my faithful within the school, to arrange, to plan? You squander your greatest strengths on hapless idiots who straggle through your classroom rather than use those talents to aid us? I begin to wonder, Severus, for whom you are truly fighting."

"My loyalty has never wavered from you, my Lord - there has never been so much as a shred of evidence that I ever -"

"-did anything against our cause beyond squirming into the Order of the Phoenix and using that as a pardon when I was forced to flee, working for fifteen years under the thumb of the Great Fool himself, choosing so many times to leave me to my own devices instead of aiding me, and hindering or harming my servants when you discovered them. No, Severus, of course I should not have doubted you. My apologies."

Severus stood his ground as the snakefaced bastard approached him. "You disappoint me, Severus. I pulled you from certain death at the hands of the Ministry (4). I secured you a job in the Department of Mysteries. I offered you a way to conduct your work unhindered by idiotic restrictions and laws that have no purpose save to hamper the efforts of those ambitious enough to attempt true progress, and yet your efforts for our cause grow less and less. I have no use for a traitor in my ranks."

As the last horrible word left cracked and bloodless lips, the Dark Lord - no, _Voldemort_, he didn't need to be afraid of the name when he was going to die anyway, right? - placed both thin hands on Severus' chest and shoved. Severus stumbled heavily backward and landed in the arms of Lucius and Draco Malfoy. One held his wrists behind his back and slid an iron-strong arm around his waist. The other clamped a soaking wet pad of cotton over his nose and mouth and a sickly-sweet odor like rotten mushrooms, like charnel pits (5), like overfermented wine - _chloroform_ - filled his brain, not ceasing as he tried to throw off the hands of his assailants.

Before Severus slid limply to the ground, he wondered vaguely if it were possible to kill someone by forcing them to breathe chloroform. _That was one thing I didn't study when I did my work on poisons, damn it,_ he thought muzzily as darkness claimed his mind.

* * *

The first thing Severus did when he awoke was to register the fact that he was laying mostly naked on a stone floor - his robes had been taken, leaving him in a thin shirt and trousers. The next thing he did was to make the stones considerably warmer - vomit would do that. God, he hated chloroform. If he'd ever become Minister of Magic he would have outlawed it. Instead, he just groaned, loudly. Then a warm hand came to rest at the small of his back, encouraging him to pull himself off the floor. Severus looked up to see golden eyes gazing concernedly back at him.

"Remus . . . "

"Shh. Here." Remus handed him a small flask that seemed to contain water - cold, pure, and completely untainted. "I don't know what they're playing at, I really don't. They've been in four times since we ended up in here last night, but they haven't done anything, really." Remus pointed across the cell at a wooden table with a tray on it. "They gave me a few pieces of bread and a cup of tea when we came in - I was still conscious - they left more food about an hour ago, and they even - look at this." Remus held up his hands. The torn up fingers on his left hand had been carefully bandaged, as had the burns on his right wrist. "It's so - odd. You'd expect them to milk this for all it's worth."

Remus stood and walked back to the table, where he crossed his arms over his chest and looked broodingly down on an object sitting near the tray. "Voldemort himself was in here twice. The second time - look here." Remus returned to Severus' side, carrying - Severus blinked incredulously - their wands. "He even performed _finite incantatem_ on them to prove they hadn't been tampered with. There's something I don't like about all this. It's too easy."

Severus shook his head. "Remus, how many Unforgivables do you know?"

Remus considered. "I'm all right with Imperius - Dumbledore insisted I learn it in case I was attacked, I could force the attacker to leave - but that's it."

"The same. And almost everyone we're likely to be up against - the Malfoys, for example - can throw off Imperius. And there's not too much else they'll be vulnerable to."

Remus looked at his partner in surprise. "You don't know all the Unforgivables?" Instantly he redoubled. "You know what, I'm sorry. Forget I said that. I mean -"

"I know what you meant. I used to be able to cast the Killing Curse, although I never used it on a human being - but after the Triwizard Tournament -" Severus shook his head to clear it of the memory of blank gray eyes and a boneless body slipping through his arms as he helped carry Cedric Diggory back to the castle. "I couldn't do it. And Cruciatus just always hit too close to home for me."

Remus nodded in silent understanding. Snape Senior was not well known for his mercies.

"Clever on their part, then, really, leaving us our wands. We're tonight's dinner show, so to speak."

Severus nodded. "It's a rather clever piece of psychology, in a twisted sort of way - they give us all the tools for our own defense, and leave us to torture ourselves to insanity when we realize we simply don't have the skill. They'll wait until sundown before - wait a minute, what day is it?"

"We were brought in here sometime last night - _damn_! I don't have -" Remus jumped up and began tearing at the lock on the door. "We have to -"

"Remus?"

Remus stopped his fruitless mauling of the door handle so he could turn to look at his partner, still sitting forlornly on the floor. "Yes?"

"I - I'm sorry."

Remus looked puzzled. "For what?"

"Dragging you into all this." Severus waved a hand around in a manner that seemed to suggest he was the one who'd pulled Remus into the cell in the first place.

"It's not your fault, Severus. I would have ended up here sooner or later anyway. Apparently a werewolf who's a member of the Order of the Phoenix is considered a highly sought prize in these parts." Remus shook his head. "It's lucky you showed up, really."

Severus asked with his eyes for an explanation. Remus hurried to elaborate, moving to sit next to his partner.

"Last night - I've been thinking about it a lot today - I almost accepted his offer, do you know that? I really felt like I was just going right off my head. And then he pushed it just a bit too far when he mentioned you - and I realized you were there, I could feel it - and it sort of - brought me back to my senses. I couldn't believe I was honestly going to -" Remus shook his head again.

"Far stronger men than you have succumbed to the Dark L- to - Voldemort."

Remus eyed him suspiciously. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

Severus scooted backward on the floor, holding his hands up in supplication. "I suppose I should have worded it better if I had said there are many men with far less reason to turn to him than what you have, and yet they've done so all the same. I thought for a moment that - we - had lost you for good. Would have been a damned shame, really. People like you are hard to come by."

"And since when have you called him Voldemort?"

Severus half-grinned wryly. "I can stand up and die like a man, or I can die being afraid of Voldemort's name like I'm some kind of spineless little worm."

Remus looked dismayed. Severus shrugged.

"I always knew I'd die at Voldemort's hand, one way or the other."

"And yet it may not come to your death, Severus," a new voice interjected, and the two men in the cell scrambled to their feet (Remus had been supplied with a new brace at some point during the night).

"Indeed." Severus didn't bother adding a qualifier to the end - it seemed quite pointless. Voldemort stood in the doorway looking rather anticlimatic, somehow.

"Indeed, Severus. It occurs to me that I hold your life or death -" here the bastard dangled a small crystal bottle hanging from a chain - "quite literally in my hands. Your pretty little wolf can't hurt you with this, can he? And after all . . . everyone may fall astray once in awhile. I am ready to forgive if you are ready to forget, as the saying goes." The high laugh that followed was highly mocking.

"I didn't have the Wolfsbane yesterday. Drinking it now is pointless," Remus pointed out, trying to remain both calm and neutral, and also wondering in some small and absurd part of his brain how he could be so abysmal in Potions and yet clearly know more about them than the man in front of him. He _could_ harm someone under the influence of the potion - it was only just that drinking the potion allowed him to have a choice in the matter.

"You fool. It was in your food. You wonder why we allowed you no sugar in your tea?"

Remus was stunned, to state the case mildly. Such a thing would never have occurred to him, especially after Voldemort's last statement. It struck him as somewhat hilarious that he knew more than one of the most powerful wizards this century. Voldemort turned to him.

"I require answers, little wolf," he stated, dangling the bottle again. Remus overlooked the insult in favor of trying to get everyone involved - except, perhaps, Voldemort - out of this alive. Remus set his jaw. He would give answers. Whether or not they were the answers Voldemort wanted was another matter.

"What do you want to know?" Behind him, he could sense Severus' dismay, but he had no way of informing his partner of his true intentions. Damned if he didn't want to strangle Voldemort immediately for putting them through this. Voldemort's smile widened triumphantly.

"Where are the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Remus shrugged. "No idea."

"You lie!"

"I'm not the Secret Keeper. I don't know where the headquarters are."

Strike one for Voldemort. "And who is the Secret Keeper?"

"I was informed by no less than four of your so-kind Death Eaters that I'm not to name the person in question, on pain of a most torturous death." Remus chuckled inwardly. There were at least four people he'd been told not to name. Strike two.

"Name him now with no consequence, then."

Well . . . there had to be a way around tha- oh, right. "I can't."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"Well, you said 'name him with no consequence.' How can I name him when the person in question isn't necessarily male?" Brilliant stroke of Dumbledore's, splitting the Secret-Keeping among three different people - he Kept the location, Tonks Kept the secret of getting in, and Mad-Eye Moody - well, Remus wasn't quite sure _what_ exactly Moody was doing, but it kept the Order safe, so far be it from him to ask questions.

"Name her, then."

"I never said the Secret-Keeper was female."

Voldemort drew his wand.

"I also never said there was only one, did I?"

A pause. Strike three - and a half, if Remus did say so himself. The wand was slipped back inside a deep pocket, and Voldemort _chuckled._ Of all things, _Voldemort chuckled._ "I seem to have underestimated you, little wolf," he mocked. "And yet - you learn quickly the ways of the Death Eaters, do you not? You give what is asked . . . " Voldemort unwound the chain from his fingers. "And I give what is offered. You see, I hold to my word . . . " He offered the small crystal bottle to Remus, who eyed it cautiously.

"How do I know it's not poison?"

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "It was removed from the stocks of the Traitor himself, little wolf . . . unless he has been poisoning you for the past week, I should suggest it is genuine." He shook his head in mock-sorrow. "Again you prove your worth . . . your answer is the same?"

"It's not changing," Remus replied, taking the bottle slowly, as though afraid it, too, was some kind of trap. He pulled the glass stopper, and then offered it to Severus. "All right by you?"

Severus examined the liquid in the bottle critically, even smelling it before offering a verdict. "It seems all right. It's the concentrate I've been making the potion itself out of." He passed the bottle back to Remus, who hesitated a few moments more before drinking it. A sort of relief flooded his veins as the wolf retreated back into its mental den, cheated of blood, harmless.

"Now, Severus . . . you see I offer you one last chance. You know what I ask."

Severus stood firm. "I see no reason to give you any favors."

Voldemort drew his wand and pointed it steadily at the black-haired man. "I think we could agree on a reason or two, could we not, Severus?"

"Not likely."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Even now you walk the edge of a very narrow precipice, seconds from death, and you say nothing?"

"What's to stop you from killing me after I tell you what you want to know?"

Years afterward, Severus would be hard-pressed to try to explain the curse that answered his statement. He knew only in some mechanical part of his brain that perhaps Cruciatus should be replaced on the Unforgivables list. He thought perhaps this curse was slitting his veins with a knife that had been first soaked in some kind of semi-frozen fluid that was causing a terrific stinging and throbbing. He remembered vaguely touching a hot iron poker as a child, and decided that there was one cauterizing the wounds left by the knife. Abruptly the torture ended, and he found himself on his knees, unable to recall how he had gotten there. He stared defiantly up into amused red eyes.

"Ah . . . I see . . . " Voldemort chuckled. In a movement so fluid as to make water green with envy, Voldemort jerked Remus toward him and spun the blonde round to face outward, one arm round Remus' waist and arms to keep him from getting away, the other resting lightly at his throat.

"You would rather die and hope your _lover_ gets out alive than you would to betray him, would you not? But you underestimate me once again, Severus . . . " Voldemort shook his head. "I had hoped you might be persuaded to join our cause, little wolf, but it seems too late . . . " Voldemort slid his hand up over Remus' nose and mouth. Immediate panic set in, and Remus began tossing his head wildly, trying to breathe.

"Stop!" Severus scrambled to his feet and took two steps forward before Voldemort's wand was aimed at Remus' neck.

"Two little words, Severus, two little words and I remove what you are trying so shoddily to protect. You would do better to confess your guilt and give what I ask, would you not?"

Remus stared at him, desperate, pleading, for a single moment. Severus stood firm.

"I won't."

The hand pressed tighter. Remus struggled again - Severus stared in disbelief. He'd always thought it to be naught but a legend -

Remus' hair grew longer, his hands turned upward and gained claws - and he wrenched his mouth free, sinking long white fangs deep into a wasted chalk-colored hand. Voldemort screamed - a high, keening sound that would haunt the nightmares of both other men present for many days. Remus pulled away, looking horrified, his entire body now returned to its normal human state, blood dripping from his front lip. He backed away slowly, breathing heavily - Severus reached to pull him away - and the door to the cell opened. In walked an oblivious Wormtail, clearly sent, most likely by some other, higher ranking Death Eater, to remove the food tray. Voldemort shrieked at him.

"You fool, kill him!" A hand dripping blood pointed directly at Remus Lupin. Wormtail turned and lunged. Severus drew his wand.

"_Imperio_!"

Wormtail stopped, silver hand about two inches short of his goal - Remus' throat. His eyes clouded. He swiveled, slowly . . .

Slowly . . .

And began walking away. Remus sighed in relief. Voldemort screeched at his miserable minion, who seemed completely heedless of the noise. Wormtail was now nothing more than a small, stout tin soldier set into animation by the only Unforgivable Curse Severus Snape had ever cast, and certainly the one of the longest duration. Severus struggled to keep his wand steady. He knew what he was doing, and it wasn't an accident this time.

Voldemort's eyes widened in sudden comprehension - and fear. Severus' mouth twisted into a sardonic smile.

"I, too, repay my debts, _My Lord_," he murmured.

He raised the wand.

Voldemort screamed as a silver hand wound round his throat.

Severus collapsed.

* * *

Somewhere deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, the distant gods laughed and smiled at Remus Lupin. He had proven his own worth once again. They rewarded him with a darkhaired figure that stood in the exact centre of a Colluseum-type room. The figure looked all round himself, bewildered, and then made the kind of profound statement one rarely heard, except from men of that sort.

"What the bloody hell am I doing back here?"

* * *

The first thing he realised upon awakening was that he was in a room that smelled rather musty. Unused. Old. Then he realized that there was a thin hand resting in his own, and he scrambled to sit up before another, identical hand pushed down on his chest and forced him to lie back in the bed.

"Glad to see you've decided to rejoin the land of the living, then," a disembodied voice said. Well, it _seemed_ disembodied. Severus wasn't seeing too well. But it sounded like Harry.

"What the hell happened to me?"

"We're not entirely sure, but Sirius found traces of arsenic in your bloodstream. We think there might have been poison in that water you drank."

"I would have tasted it," Severus protested, thinking muzzily that something Harry had just said didn't sound quite right.

"He said white arsenic doesn't have a taste."

"He?"

"Sirius."

There it was. "Black?"

"How many other Siriuses do we know?"

"But Black -"

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the grin on the boy's face. "We don't know how he got back or where he came from, but Dumbledore questioned him under Veritaserum and it's definitely him. He doesn't remember anything since June, though . . . "

"Then you think he was really dead."

"Or something like it, anyway," Harry answered, and Severus opened his eyes to look at the boy. Unbelievable.

What he saw next was worse - he was sure now that he was hallucinating. Sirius Black stood in the doorway, and then walked right through it, shaking his head. "It's no good, we had to tie his hands down. He kept tearing at his arms." Black spied Severus half-sitting in the bed. "It's about time you're awake," he announced, checking Severus' pulse, vision, breath, and so on.

"What the hell is going on with Remus?"

Black took a deep breath. "He has Lunatic's Fever. Those _bastards_ put silver dust in the brace on his ankle. It was eating away the skin just barely enough to be noticed. The idea, we think, was that if he joined Voldemort, they could change the brace, remove the dust, and nobody would be the wiser, but otherwise he'd end up with a hefty dose of silver to the brain. Brilliant, really, in a twisted sort of way."

Lunatic's Fever - a lycanthropic disease caused by excessive contact with pure sterling silver. Highly dreaded by the werewolf community, a bad enough case could cause its victim to become blind, deaf, or even - in many cases - hopelessly insane. Hence the name. Severus shivered. At one time he would have laughed over the dastardly ingenuity of the idea, and the realization made him hang his head in shame. Black put a hand on his shoulder.

"Snape."

Severus looked up.

"Remus told me - before he became delusional - what you did for him in there."

Severus waited.

"I just wanted you to know - I'll make sure you're the first to know, when he's really awake."

Severus considered. "Is that - likely - at this point?"

Black shrugged. "We flushed his bloodstream. If all goes well he should be fully aware again within twenty-four hours."

Severus nodded. He could wait.

* * *

**(The not so long this time) REFERENCE NOTES:**

**(1)** If the information in Chamber of Secrets (the book) is carefully followed, the DADA office would appear to be on the third floor, with the classroom on the second floor (although it's also common to see these inverted, I use the one that seems to be correct according to the book). The movie shows the office as being inside the classroom, but based on the first chat Remus has with Harry in PoA, this is not possible as Harry is walking in the corridor and Remus "stuck his head out of his office" to ask Harry in. If the office could only be accessed from the classroom, as shown in the movie, Remus would not have seen Harry (this was "rectified" in the movie by that nauseating chat on the bridge, and again later by a walk in the woods they were mysteriously taking for no apparent reason).

**(2)** Information taken from the Harry Potter Lexicon.

**(3)** I think this is self-explanitory, but just in case: In the books, we only ever see the Prefect's badges of Percy, Ron, and Hermione - all Gryffindors. Malfoy's badge is mentioned but not described, as is Ernie MacMillan's. However, since the badges we see are described as being red and gold (Gryffindor colors), we can assume that the badges will also identify the house said Prefect belongs to (yellow and black for Hufflepuff, silver and green for Slytherin, bronze and blue for Ravenclaw, and red and gold for Gryffindor). Luna is in Ginny's year (one year behind Harry) and in Gryffindor, therefore she is, in this story, a first-year prefect with a Ravenclaw prefect's badge.

**(4)** A friend of mine didn't understand the "certain death" bit, but I loved this rant, so I kept it and simply inserted this note. Although Severus' killing of his father was accidental, he was a scrawny seventeen year old with a bad track record already (remember when Sirius said Severus started school knowing more Dark curses than most of the seventh years?) and so there would have been no reason for the Wizengamot to acquit him, accident or not. Voldemort is saying that he, in some way I didn't bother going into (assume he sent an agent who acted as some kind of witness - that'll do well enough for our purposes), was responsible for Severus not being imprisoned or punished for his father's death. The idea that he saved Severus "from certain death" refers to the fact that Severus would probably have been sentenced to death (if the Wizarding world has the death penalty) or to a lifetime in Azkaban, which would essentially lead to death via mental torture and madness (and probably suicide). Also, his reference to Severus' first job implies that he probably used an inside source to land Severus a position in the Ministry.

**(5)** The term "charnel pit" comes from Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot and this scene in general is adapted from Why Didn't They Ask Evans? by Agatha Christie (excellent books, both of them), but "charnel pit" as a term is not defined on dictionary(dot)com, which I use for all my definitions. "Charnel," however, brought up the following:

_n. _A repository for the bones or bodies of the dead ; a charnel house. _adj._ Resembling, suggesting, or suitable for receiving the dead.

Although the two do not appear in the thesaurus entries as synonyms for each other, I believe that many people refer to a charnel (house) as defined as a noun, with the term "mausoleum." This would be one of those huge above-ground graves you see in some cemetaries.

Thanks to the previously listed authors and to dictionary . com for this awesome (in my opinion) scene.


	22. 21: WIth Love

LINER NOTES:

Usual disclaimers and so on apply.

RATING: This chapter is rated **T/PG-13** for **language** and **getting-up-there homosexuality.** (We've finally moved past holding hands, amigos.) Oh yes, and there's a het warning, too, for Harry/some girl I won't mention yet (DIE, GINNY! DIEEEE! Okay, not really, BUT STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY DAMN FICS!)

REVIEWS: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! **Eleonora1**, I sent you an email and I promise there is very little Remus torture in this one. Anyway, I think the kissing/funny rumors/glowing Ministry reports make up for it. He's a happy guy just now. Oh, and I finally moved back into the basement, so The Love Nest is open once again. That means Severus, Sirius, and Harry are all happy too. (Yeah, Harry and me, we get around . . . -snort-) Wait, I never told you about The Love Nest! I told **Yulara** about The Love Nest! GAHHH . . .

Okay, for those of you who now think I'm nuts - The Love Nest is a joke that started between me and **Alicia**, and it moved online eventually.

AND THE MOST IMPORTANT PART: **What There is in a Bottleof Ink will not be affected in any way by the events, persons, or locales introduced in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. The story should be read exactly as though it occurs immediately after the events in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.**

And . . . why are you still reading these notes? ON TO THE STORY!

* * *

"Is Snape in here?" Sirius poked his head through the hole where the heavy oak kitchen door had once been - Molly Weasley had taken it upon herself to renovate the house, one room at a time, once it was fully cleaned - and watched as eight people shook their heads.

"I think he said he was going to be in the library," Hermione mused. Sirius nodded in thanks and disappeared.

A short holiday had been granted to the Hogwarts students in consideration of the mayhem that the final - and complete - fall of He-Who-Could-For-Some-Reason-Now-Be-Named-Without-People-Wincing-And-Saying-To-Not-Say-His-Name. Everyone was expected to put their family affairs in order and be back by the twenty-third. Additional time had to be approved by the Headmaster.

* * *

Snape was indeed in the library with Harry, both poring over separate books on potion-brewing and lycanthropy, trying to find a way to help Remus. So far they'd found nothing. Sirius traipsed in and waited until both of them looked up at him, being suddenly aware of a change in their concentrated little environment. If the circumstances had been different, Sirius would have found their twin expressions to be extraordinarily humorous - broken concentration saturated liberally with concern and just a pinch of annoyance - or maybe determination, who could tell with so many shadows in the room?

Sirius grinned happily at them both.

"He's awake."

* * *

"Mmmmmm . . . "

Remus thought he must be having a very nice dream. Someone was holding his hand and gently combing his hair with their fingers in a slow, regular pattern. He was neither hot nor shivering - on the contrary, he felt the pleasant coolness of a recently changed bed, and he felt clean as opposed to the sticky, gravelly feeling he'd been covered in when he'd transformed not long after being rescued from Voldemort's strongholds (and, much to his chagrin in spite of his gratefulness, had discovered that the snakefaced cur had been telling the truth about the Wolfsbane). Someone called his name softly and he allowed his head to turn in the direction of the voice, but he didn't open his eyes - he'd tried that once already and discovered it was simply too painful even in the dim light of this windowless room.

"Remus?" That voice again, familiar but unfamiliar in that he couldn't place it anymore. The tones weren't right - couldn't the person speak normally so he could understand?

"I'm awake . . . " he murmured. thinking that perhaps the man sitting next to him (the hand was far too large to belong to any of the women Remus knew) thought he was still sleeping. "My eyes just hurt."

"That's normal," said the voice, and things started to click in Remus' brain now that most of the worry had dissipated from the deep baritone. "Do you know what happened to you?"

Remus shifted and risked opening his eyes again, just a bit. This time it wasn't so bad. "Silver poisoning."

Severus shook his head. "More than that. Lunatic's Fever. We thought you were dead for certain. Poppy couldn't even diagnose it. We had some woman from St. Mungo's in to deal with the worst of it. Two full grams of sterling sliver dust straight to the brain via the bloodstream. You were only about a quarter gram away from making lycanthropic medical history. No survivors have ever been listed past two grams and an eighth."

Remus shuddered. "But how did it -"

"Through your ankle. The brace they gave you was impregnated with it, from what I've been able to gather since I woke up."

"And what got to you?"

"Nothing so elaborate, I'm afraid. Plain old-fashioned arsenic in the drinking water."

Remus' eyes grew wide as he took in the implications of this.

"It doesn't have a taste when used in the right form. And we've already determined that you're immune to it, for some reason we've yet to discover. Don't beat yourself up over it. It wasn't your fault."

Remus nodded.

"Do you want to see Harry?"

Remus considered. "For a little bit, maybe."

Severus nodded and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"I have no plans to wear you out fifteen minutes after you wake up."

Remus tried to pout, but the effect was lessened by the fact that he could barely sit up.

"Severus . . . "

Severus turned back.

"Severus . . . when I was still . . . you know . . . I thought I saw Sirius. Several times. I know it was a real person because things would . . . change. You know, my clothes would be changed or I'd have water with me or something . . . I just wondered . . . if you knew who -"

"Nobody seems to know where Black came back from, but it is most certainly a fact confirmed by both the Ministry and Dumbledore that Sirius Black is very much so alive and living in this house. For pity's sake, Remus, don't you dare try getting up until you're told it's safe for you."

Severus left the room in search of Harry, leaving Remus alone to grumble about being treated like a baby.

* * *

The students of Hogwartsarrived back to the school exactly on schedule, thrilled to see Remus with a mostly-healed ankle and no other apparent injuries or illnesses. Some were perhaps less enthusiastic about finding out that the 'old bat' of the dungeons had also made a full recovery, but if it was so, they didn't show it. Life went on quite as it had before Remus' kidnapping, in fact, except that the Aurors had left the school and Remus had become something of a celebrity. At the height of the excitement he managed to turn himself into an older-looking version of a very hairy Harry (complete with overexaggerated lightning-bolt scar on his forehead and a pair of wax fangs) and came to class in a Gryffindor uniform with a sign reading "The Werewolf Who Lived" hanging from his neck. It garnered plenty of laughs (especially from Harry and his friends, they being the ones who'd helped him set the prank up in the first place) and some embarrassment for people like Lavender Brown, who'd been caught taking a quill out of his desk without a good reason for it. The mania died down a bit after that, but Remus still had cause to complain of a positive epidemic of missing handkerchiefs, self-memos, index cards, ballpoint pens, bookmarkers, and on one memorable day someone had taken a Honeydukes chocolate wrapper out of his desk and left the chocolate (half-eaten by Remus in a fit of craving while marking first-year essays), sitting exactly where it had been before the paper covering had been removed. It was after his pocket-watch (actually a wristwatch with a broken strap) came up missing that he was called to the Headmaster's office, and his surprise was great upon finding Harry and Severus there as well.

Dumbledore opened their conversation by offering tea and sherbet lemons all around and then informing Remus that his watch had been found and left on the Head Table at lunch, and he (Dumbledore) was inclined to believe that Remus had lost it in the halls, seeing as it had certainly happened before (twice, in fact, and both times returned by some first year or other, clearly the Hufflepuff House pariah - Remus had never been entirely convinced that it had just fallen out of his pocket). Then he grew serious.

"I think, gentlemen, that you all have a right to be asking me a rather pressing question, and yet only Harry has ventured so far to ask it. I must confess myself completely surprised."

Remus and Severus exchanged a glance (while Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and blushed) before Remus spoke. "About the Prophesy."

Dumbledore nodded and twinkled. "Correct."

Harry finally sat up straight. "So - why wasn't the Prophesy fulfilled, Sir? Was it because Voldemort didn't know all ofit, or -"

"On the contrary, Harry, it has very much so been fulfilled."

All three stared at him quizzically. Dumbledore smiled. "You remember, Harry, in your third year, when you saved the life of Peter Pettigrew?"

Harry nodded uncertainly.

"I told you then that when one wizard saves the life of another, a very strong bond is formed - and that a day might come when you would be glad you had saved him. You understand now?"

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore tried again.

"If you had chosen not to save him, Harry - there are many things that would doubtlessly have been different, but for simplicity's sake we will assume that everything would have been the same, in some way, up to this point. As I understand it, Voldemort was destroyed after being infected with lycanthropy, having tried a most unwise method of restraining Remus and using him as some form of torture instrument. Pettigrew, who has the most interesting possession of a silver hand, was forced under Imperius to strangle his own master. You see now, all of you? If Harry had allowed Pettigrew to die, there would have been no ceremony in which he lost his hand, therefore no silver hand to replace it, therefore no danger to Remus that had to be redirected, and therefore no silver strangulation of Lord Voldemort. You fulfilled the Prophesy, Harry, by creating the tools to fulfil it. You remember, all of you: "Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives." Sooner or later, Harry, Pettigrew would have killed one or the other of you in some way. It had occurred to me years ago that 'the other' referred to in the Prophesy might not have meant you or Voldemort at all, but could instead have referred to another, third, person, not bound by any of the other constraints of the Prophesy: date of birth, heritage, the mark of Voldemort. It seems I was right. An interesting little study, to be sure, don't you think, gentlemen?"

* * *

Harry stared broodingly at his reflection in the mirror. Dumbledore had announced a "Valentine's Dance," though everyone down to the suits of armour knew this was nothing more than a glorified victory ball. Harry, of course, couldn't find a way to squirm out of going, and so here he was in his green dress robes, hogging the mirror even though he knew there were other people who needed it. Ron finally elbowed him out of the way.

"Really, mate, I don't care if you're carrying on an affair with your own reflection, but I've never had these on and I don't know . . . " Ron turned from side to side and scowled at the brown-sugar-colored robes hanging from his lanky frame. "I look like one of those bloody monks you read about in those old books Hermione's so fond of," he lamented, turning suddenly as Harry seized a hair brush from his bedside table and tried desperately to make his hair lie _flat_ for once.

"Mate, what're you so on about tonight?"

Harry didn't answer. He was busy thinking about a quiet voice and large, glittering eyes.

* * *

Three hours into the dance Harry gave up on trying to have a good time. Ron and Hermione were off somewhere doing couple-y things, Seamus and Dean were either dancing or trying to find a partner, Neville had stayed upstairs to do his homework, and though Draco Malfoy and his human gorillas had been expelled after Remus' kidnapping (and, being of age, all three would be standing trial as well), there were plenty of others - like Marietta Edgecombe, for example - who were conspiring to make Harry feel generally watched and miserable. He was so distracted that he reached for his bottle of butterbeer and didn't realize until after he'd taken a healthy swig that it shouldn't have had enough left in it for him to take a swallow that size. He started, the memory of Severus' poisoning still fresh in his mind, and looked up. Luna was sitting across from him. She smiled dreamily.

"Do you always sit alone when the school holds dances?"

"Er," Harry stuttered, his brain jamming as he tried to think of something interesting to say, and for a moment he almost wished he were Remus or Severus, both of them always ready with an answer. "Er, no, I just - I mean - it's - well - er - " Harry gave up.

Luna just smiled. "You looked thirsty."

Harry looked down at the new bottle in his hand. "Er - I mean - thanks. I mean, you didn't have to do that. Or - I mean - er -"

"Gryffindor is favorite for the Quidditch Cup this year, aren't they?" Luna queried, and Harry let out a mental sigh of relief. Here was something he knew.

"I guess it's not so hard to beat a team when four of its members (1) are missing and the remaining Captain is too thick to realize they're not coming back in time for the game and need replaced, you know?"

Luna laughed a bit. "I suppose that's true." A pause. "You'll have a harder time beating Ravenclaw next week."

Harry grinned. "Maybe." Then, "Will you still love me even if we win?" in an attempt to tease.

Luna stared at him. Bad move, Harry, an inner voice that sounded remarkably like Remus informed him. You shouldn't _ever _try to flirt like that. Then Luna started to laugh. "I only go to Quidditch games because everyone else does, actually," she informed Harry. "It's a nice game, but there are too many people who forget that it's _only_ a game." She stirred her drink (cherry soda and vanilla ice cream) lazily with her straw while Harry tried to think up a good response. Luna gazed off into a corner of the Great Hall. "You know, I don't understand why nobody else saw it before," she said, still looking off into the corner. "It's always been clear as day to me. They're perfect for each other, don't you think?"

Harry followed her line of sight, trying to figure out what on earth she was talking about. He squinted, and the corner's two occupants came into focus. Severus, his hair braided, wearing wine-red dress robes (several people were staring openly) over a black button-down shirt and trousers, standing very close to Remus, who'd forgone his normal comfortable-but-very-worn-out blue jeans and cardigan in favor of robes much the same color as Ron's. They were extremely old fashioned though still in almost-perfect condition, and Harry remembered, with a twinge of amusement, that he'd seen those robes in Remus' graduation pictures.

The odd couple turned in a slow circle, apparently unaware of (or ignoring) the many eyes watching them and their queerly placed progress. Remus had placed one hand behind Severus' neck, turned backward, and Severus had rested one hand on his partner's waist. Their other hands were clasped together, held down near their sides. They continued to turn, foreheads together, dancing to a drummer all their own.

* * *

"Mmmm . . . " Remus smiled against Severus' neck.

"You do enjoy saying that, don't you?"

"Mmm?"

Severus shook his head and smiled, almost invisibly, at the tiny man in his arms. "Do you realize people are staring at us, Remus?"

Remus opened his eyes lazily and gazed up at the dark man above him. "Do you care?"

Severus considered. "Not particularly."

Remus closed his eyes and rested his head against Severus' chest again. "Good."

Some mischievous part of Severus' brain - the part that would have made him an excellent Marauder if he hadn't been so keen on rules - gave him a rather amusing idea, which he wasted no time in sharing with his partner.

"What do you suppose would happen if I kissed you right now?"

"Here? With everyone watching?"

"Yes."

Remus considered for several moments. "I think the breakdown in authority we'd both experience makes it prudent for us to wait until we're upstairs."

"Remus Lupin, are you actually considering being _discreet_ for once?"

"Mmmm."

"Do you want to go?" Severus almost-whispered as Remus shifted his weight uncomfortably to rest more fully on his left ankle, the right one not being entirely healed yet.

"After this song, maybe. Or we could sit down. I don't think we ought to do any unannounced disappearing any time soon."

Severus nodded in understanding.The music faded and then picked up again, going into a faster number. Severus released the blonde in his arms and held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Remus smiled and took his arm for support as the crowd fractured in front of them.

* * *

Harry stood outside the portrait to the common room. The Fat Lady seemed quite annoyed that he hadn't yet given the password, and even moreso that he didn't seem about to. Instead he was staring off into space, his face looking completely and utterly shell-shocked, until Dean came up the staircase and ushered Harry into the common room. Harry floated off to bed, finally giving up on his pajama top after he'd buttoned it wrong four times (one of those times inside out).

It occurred to him just as he fell asleep that maybe he ought to have kissed back.

* * *

Remus darted into the Great Hall fifteen minutes before breakfast ended, his hair still damp from the showers and his sleeve cuffs unbuttoned. Several people, mostly Remus' friends in the older years, stared at him and laughed in a friendly way as he plunked into a seat at the Gryffindor table, clearly not wanting to waste the time to get to the teachers' table, and began adding sugar to a bowl of apple-cinnamon oatmeal. He poured a cup of tea and drained most of it at one go before crunching into a piece of toast. Harry leaned back hastily to give Remus free access to the bacon and muffins.

"What were _you _doing last night to be so hungry?" Harry stared in disbelief. He'd never seen anyone eat so much so fast, not even Ron at the Welcoming Feast.

Remus mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "necking" into his orange juice before standing up and hurrying out to brush his teeth.

* * *

"So if we assume that all undetectable poisons are indeed illegal, how are the laws banning them enforced?" Severus looked desperately in the direction of the Slytherins before calling on Hermione.

"All undetectable poisons show certain signs after the death of the person or persons who ingested them, Professor," Hermione answered promptly, and Severus nodded absently before starting in on the laws about undetectable poisons, and when they were created, and so on. Harry took advantage of his unusual distractedness to scribble a note to his two best friends.

_Terribly out of it today, isn't he?_

He expected Ron to crack a joke and Hermione to be generally disapproving over writing notes in class, so their reactions shocked him immensely. Ron just stared at Severus for several seconds before shrugging. Hermione inked an answer beneath Harry's original line.

_Lavender was in the Hospital Wing last night because she tripped on her robes and twisted her ankle, and she said when she was leaving she saw him kissing Remus good night right in the middle of the corridor._

Hermione rarely indulged in gossip and even more rarely spread it around, so Harry knew there was more to be had.

_What else did she say?_

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione gasped and hastily shoved the parchment under her book. "Eighteen ninety-four, sir," she answered promptly. Harry was impressed. He had no idea what the question was, much less the answer. Hermione pulled the parchment back out.

_Well, she did say they looked rather . . . involved . . . in each other, _Hermione admitted grudgingly.

_I think Remus said this morning at breakfast that they were -_

Hermione poked him in the side. Harry looked up.

"Er, sorry, sir?"

The class laughed. Harry turned a becoming shade of pink. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Potter, do I need to buy you a hearing trumpet so I may save my vocal cords?"

"Er . . . sorry," Harry responded, "Professor."

Severus sighed heavily before moving back toward his own desk. "Since Mr. Potter does not wish to contribute to the class . . . The potion known as _veneficus__ abolesco _(2), or "Vanishing Poison," is the most recently discovered potion _classified _as 'undetectable,' having been discovered in 1976. Can anyone tell me why its classification is inaccurate?" A long pause, and then a resigned "Miss Granger?"

"The poison works by causing the drinker to fade," Hermione responded unhesitatingly. "Death doesn't actually occur until the person is merely a shadow, almost invisible, and completely permeable. At this point the blood is forced to drain from the body and the lungs can no longer sustain -"

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Severus cut across Hermione's explanation of the unsavory things that happened once the skin membrane became completely pervious.

Dean raised his hand. "Who discovered it, sir? The name's not listed in the text -"

"I did," Severus responded, "entirely by accident in my first N.E.W.T. Potions class. I was quite lucky in that my partner decided a bezoar was in order when she tried to seize my wrist and her hand passed through it entirely, and from that point forward I restricted my experimentation to gnomes." Several people tittered nervously at the face Severus made when he said 'gnomes;' it was something like a cross between a grimace and a snarl.

_That's not true,_ Hermione wrote indignantly. _Remus was one of his test subjects for an early version of the Wolfsbane. He told me so himself. _

Harry was stunned - that was something he hadn't known. _Really?_

_He also told me he had to wear robes for a month until he transformed again, because the first time he took it he inexplicably retained his tail and they couldn't get rid of it._

Harry couldn't help it - the mental image of Remus trying to calm a tail he was unconsciously wagging at the dinner table was simply too much. Hermione's warning came in the form of several badly suppressed, rapid breaths, and then Harry started laughing uncontrollably. Even Severus Snape's Raised Eyebrow of Evil Death wasn't enough to stop him. What did bring him back to earth - with an extremely painful bump - was Severus' query.

"You find undetectable poisons amusing, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gaped foolishly for several seconds before finally stuttering, "I just - er - well - I mean - I just wondered - which parts vanish first, or is it a uniform fade?"

Severus gifted him with a long-suffering look. "Seeing as I was fully clothed at the time of ingestion and the _veneficus__ abolesco _potion has only since been brewed by qualified Masters in the employ of the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Potter, I am afraid I am completely unable to answer your question . . . although I would assume that the extremities are first to go, seeing as I wasn't forced to run from the classroom naked and screaming."

As class ended fifteen minutes later, Harry could have sworn that Severus smiled at him very slightly.

* * *

"Good afternoon, class," Remus chanted in the friendly-mocking way he used to greet his classes, and the usual mosaic of "hey" and "what's up Professor" and "Good afternoon Professor Lupin" (from Hermione) and "hmmmpphho Prphhhsrrrr" (from Neville) floated back to him. Remus gestured to the tiny, colorful woman sitting in the corner.

"Today we're playing host to a Ministry employee, . . . " Remus faltered. "I'm sorry, I still can't figure out how to pronounce your name."

The woman smiled at him. "Neh-fur-tee-tee," she enunciated clearly. "Nefertiti Jones. Don't worry about it," she added, as Remus did his usual shrug-blush-apologetic-smile, "I get it all the time."

"Right then, everyone, this is Nefertiti Jones - you know what, I think I'm going to go change my name to Jones and have a kid just so I can name her that. That's got to be one of the positively _coolest_ names I've heard since I was eleven years old and this big chunky kid walked up to me, called me four-eyes, and told me his name was Sirius and what was I laughing at," Remus reminisced, and everyone started laughing - it was common knowledge that Remus - who absolutely hated being called four-eyes, a common occurrence when he was eleven years old and still in coke-bottle spectacles - had promptly got in a fistfight with Sirius, who gave up after Remus broke his nose. (It wouldn't be the last time, either.)

"Anyway - she's here to check out the class and make sure I'm not teaching you all how to feed dynamite to iguanas -" several people laughed - "or things like that, although - that would be rather amusing . . . I wonder if we could get Peeves to swallow some dynamite in the name of a practical demonstration?" Remus pretended to ponder the idea as everyone started laughing again - this class had no trouble remembering Gred and Forge and "Give her hell from us, Peeves," and several people linked the two in their minds, coming up with the general picture of the Weasley Twins (they were immortalized as such forever within Hogwarts, now) feeding Peeves their fireworks.

"Open up to page four hundred and sixty-nine, everyone - _honestly_, what's got into you all today?" Harry didn't have the heart to tell his guardian he'd started it all by repeating Remus' "necking" comment to Ron, who - in tones of loud disbelief - accidentally reported it to half the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, who'd wasted no time in spreading it further, until now the story went that Remus and Severus had been practically having sex right in the corridor. Harry wondered what kind of a time Severus was having down in the dungeons right now, and grinned as he opened his book to the section on Acromantulas.

"Now I should warn you all right now that next lesson we're going to be going into the forest with Professors Hagrid and Snape -" Ron let out a small gasp of terror; it didn't take Trelawney's crystal ball to see what was coming - "because there's a colony of Acromantulai (3) in there, and he's managed to get a male and female who've agreed to let us study them without attacking us -" now several people whispered to each other - "so you'll have the opportunity to see them up close." Remus' attitude suddenly changed, and he became more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "Acromantulai are very intelligent creatures, and are of course capable of holding conversations and understanding what is said around them. If you feel you cannot be . . . _mature_ enough to join us in the forest, I will arrange for you to stay behind and write a report instead. The forest is a dangerous place, even with teachers around you and in the daylight, and if you've done your reading I'm sure you'll be aware that Acromantulai are also quite dangerous and absolutely _must_ be treated with complete respect. Anyone who makes light in an inappropriate manner will be punished severely. Yes, Ron?"

Ron had raised his hand, trying not to shake when he did. "Er, Professor - could I - I mean - would it be too much trouble if - "

"I'd prefer if you came with the class, Ron," Remus answered, before pulling a small, angular ball-type thing, about the size of an orange, out of his desk and tossing it casually in the air. (4) "So, can anyone tell me the origin of the Acromantula?"

Hermione threw her hand in the air just as Neville raised his own, hesitantly. Remus tossed the ball to Neville.

"Erm . . . well . . . nobody knows, really, do they? I mean, we're pretty sure Acromantulai were wizard-created and not natural creatures, but nobody can say for sure where they came from," Neville answered. The ball broke open in his hands and a Chocolate Frog card slipped out before the ball re-sealed itself. Neville looked round cautiously and then threw the ball back to - or, rather, in the general direction of - Remus, who ducked and cast his hands quickly into the air above his head to palm the ball and pull it out of the air. "Excellent answer, Neville. So, why do we _think_ Acromantulai were created?" He lobbed the ball to Lavender, who squealed and dropped it. "Er - um - well - Professor, um - she - wants you," Lavender stuttered, pointing toward Nefertiti Jones, who was ducked down in her chair with an apologetic smile. Remus turned to her, clearly braced for an Umbridge-like attack.

"I'm sorry, Professor Lupin, but I forgot to ask you before the beginning of class - could I have maybe five minutes at the end to speak with your students individually?"

Remus flicked to the end of the day's lesson in his binder (never again would Severus be able to make a comment about his disorganization . . . regarding his lesson plans, anyway) and traced halfway down the page with a finger before pausing to do some mental calculations. Then he smiled warmly at the black-haired woman in the corner. "I think we can manage at least that _if Lavender puts away her Divination homework and pays attention to the lesson_," Remus stated, laying a good deal of stress and volume on the last part of the sentence. Lavender squeaked and dropped Unfogging the Future on her bag. "Now, Lavender, didn't you have a question to answer?"

Lavender stuttered and stammered until it came out that she didn't know the answer. Harry caught the ball as she lobbed it toward him, feeling quite glad he had well-honed Seeker skills - Lavender's aim was even worse than Neville's.

"Acromantulai were first sighted in the 1790's right after the War of Thade, and because so much gold was at stake during the war, it's believed that they were originally bred to guard treasure and contraband." The ball fell open and Harry extracted a square of chocolate with a grin.

* * *

"Go ahead and pack up everyone, and please show Miss Jones the same respect you would any of your teachers," Remus announced, closing his binder with a snap (5) and turning the class over to Nefertiti Jones.

"Actually, Professor, I think I've got all I need - if I could just speak with you -"

Remus made some kind of affirmative gesture as the students packed up. Harry deliberately knocked his bag off his desk and began putting things back in it very, very slowly so he could hear what was going on. Nefertiti Jones was asking about the wisdom of taking the students to see potentially dangerous creatures.

"The creatures in question were bred by Rubeus Hagrid - the Care of Magical Creatures professor - and we're talking a maximum of eight students per teacher," Remus answered promptly, and Harry felt proud. "We've also got two other people coming with us, although the students don't know it yet, and they're both qualified to work with dangerous creatures. We've been planning this since - oh, I'm going to say, mid-October maybe? Several months at least. I think hands-on experience, when it's possible, is always preferable to simple book learning because there's only so much you can learn off a page."

Nefertiti Jones finished scribbling her comments, smiled at Remus briefly, and shook his hand firmly before informing him that his report would be available within five days. Remus smiled her out of the classroom, and then he just looked tired. He yawned and considered getting a potion from Poppy for the headache that was settling in behind his eyes before going down to lunch.

* * *

"She's been arrested, she's been arrested!" Dean Thomas raced down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, screeching like a fire siren, rousing people left and right before skidding to a stop at his seat opposite Harry, Ron, and Hermione, throwing his Daily Prophet down on the table, and plonking down on the bench. Harry and Hermione both grabbed for the paper at the same time and succeeded only in ripping the entire bottom section in half. At that moment Hermione's morning paper fluttered down in front of her, along with Harry's copy of the Quibbler (he'd started taking it in November). Both paper and magazine showed a picture of a toadlike woman in a pink cardigan and a black hair bow, her face slightly more pleasant for the lack of a smile. _UPROAR AT MINISTRY - SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY TO THE MINISTER ARRESTED,_ read the Prophet's headline. _COVERUP IN THE MINISTER'S OFFICE - THE STORY THE MINISTRY DOESN'T WANT YOU TO KNOW!_ screamed the front cover of the Quibbler. Both told essentially the same story - Dolores Umbridge had been arrested for using the Cruciatus Curse on two werewolves - one of them a child - and the inquiry into her work at the Ministry was being intenisfied. In addition to the Unforgivable Curse, she was being held on counts of perjury, abuse of power (Harry and Remus were both mentioned), breach of Magical Conduct, and high treason - it seemed she'd been caught talking to a group of known Death Eaters, and maybe even passing them information. Trial by the full Wizengamot was set for April 19.

* * *

Up at the Head Table, Remus sneezed miserably into his handkerchief before opening his post.

He had two letters from the Ministry.

One informed him that he'd performed excellently in his examination by Miss Nefertiti Jones, etc.

The other was a request for him to testify in front of the Wizengamot on April 19 in regard to charges set forth, and so on. Remus' eyes wandered and teared up yet again, and he dabbed at them wearily with the corner of the handkerchief. Severus tapped him on the shoulder and passed him the front page of the Prophet. Remus read as much of the article as he could before turning to grin at his partner.

"Think I'll be over this in time to give the bitch what she deserves?" he queried, before coughing heavily into his tea.

Severus smiled at him almost invisibly and patted his back in a reassuring manner as he shook his head. "You'll be over it, for sure, but I'm damned if I can tell how the bloody hell you caught a head cold," he murmured, before rubbing his temples and sniffing slightly. "Think I'll go see Poppy about this headache," he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his eyes before standing and exiting the Hall.

Remus thought back to the dance four nights ago and the kiss goodbye that followed it.

"Oh, dear," he chuckled quietly into his corn flakes as he folded the Prophet and set it aside in favor of a large breakfast.

* * *

(1) Malfoy, Seeker; Crabbe and Goyle, Beaters; and one unnamed ChaserI decided to get rid of just for the hell of it.

(2) Definitions from http/ humanum .arts. cuhk. edu. hk/Lexis/Latin/ and are directly copied:

veneficus : poisonous, magical/witch, wizard, caster of spells.

abolesco : to die, perish, vanish.

I felt quite lucky to find a word that meant "to die" and also describes the effects of this potion - I thought this would have to be a three-part definition, but the Gods of Fanfiction Fate were kind to me! -thanks muses-

(3) No plural is given for this in Books 1 - 5 or either of Harry's schoolbooks (the Comic Relief books), and since I'm not using Half-Blood Prince as a writing tool for this story (although the story was a good one . . . kind of . . . I prefer my version, LOL), especially since I'm sure some of you probably haven't finished the book yet, I'm making it an "optional" plural (in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, "a colony of Acromantula" is mentioned), the plural being "Acromantulai." Think along the lines of "octopus, octopi" for this one.

(4) A huge thank you to my social studies teacher, Kevin Wible, who played a similar review game with us every day to make sure we were doing our homework.

(5) I just wanted to share a laugh with you all: Upon rereading this for draft, I realized I'd typed "Snape" instead of "snap." I think I've been reading too much . . .


	23. 22: With Justice

LINER NOTES:

**_IMPORTANT NOTE TO ALL BOTTLE OF INK READERS!_** As of 31 August, 2005, I will be in the 12th grade (that's the highest grade in the United States school system, for those of you who have different school systems). This will involve a lot of homework, time, and effort. I am aware that BoI updates are already few and far between, and I apologise for that. However . . . with all that is going on in my life, plus my recent branch-out to LiveJournal and the upkeep of The Memory Room, I simply don't have the time to update constantly. Therefore: BOTTLE OF INK IS NOT BEING ABANDONED, BUT IT WILL BE A LESS FREQUENTLY UPDATED STORY. Expect updates to pick back up around Christmas (a particularly inspirational time for me, as well as being vacation time!) and Easter (ditto), and then again in June when I get out of school - assuming the story isn't done by then.

**RATING:** There is nothing particularly offensive in this chapter except for one usage of **mild language**, but as earlier chapters are rated **T/PG-13**, this chapter will be, as well.

**THANK YOU TO MY READERS FOR TAKING BOTTLE OF INK PAST 2,000 HITS ON THIS WEBSITE! **I can't tell you how positively uplifting it was to see that number. Also, at 86 reviews, it's the most feedback-oriented story I've ever written.

**REVIEWS: **I got something in my email that appears to be spam, but just in case - we're supposedly no longer allowed to answer reviews in our author notes. I think this is sheer bollocks, and I've written to the site to find out if it is true. In the meantime, I'm just going to answer general questions, not reviews, because I don't want to lose my account. So, here you go:

_REMUS' IMMUNITY TO ARSENIC:_ Think very, very, very hard, boys and girls. It is not Lycanthropy that makes Remus immune to arsenic. Go reread the scene in Voldemort's dungeon, a hint to his immunity is mentioned. Make sure to read very carefully . . .

_CONFLICTING INFORMATION_: In emails to several people, way back in the early days of BoI (mostly before Severus even entered the picture in person), I said that Remus would be very different onstage than offstage, and that onstage he wouldn't mind being a "boy toy" if it made people laugh. Apparently, this was misinterpreted as him being extremely affection-shy. This isn't the case at all, and it never has been. The most you see of that is in the Christmas Eve chapter, when he kisses Severus and they both blush and look away. He's a very affectionate person and is willing to show it, it's just that he's more of an actions-not-words person, in my opinion. Sorry for the confusion.

_"She wants you":_ This was in the original concept, got cut, got put in a different place, was cut again, was changed and put back, was cut again, and then when I typed the final draft it sort of worked its way in without my thinking about it.So the pun was intentional, but the fact that it's there was accidental.

_WIBLE'S REVIEW GAME:_ I had to laugh so hard when my friends all picked up on this as soon as they read it, without ever reading the Reference Notes. Wible used a miniature football (American kind, the one shaped sort of like a pair of brackets), and it did NOT give chocolate (although sometimes he did) for a correct answer. That was my own magical twist on the game. I'm glad it was so enjoyed, though!

_KISSING_: Remus and Severus have kissed several times, so WHY DO YOU PEOPLE KEEP SAYING THEY NEVER DO? The first incident was in Chapter 13 (as I number them), "On Reunions and Dark Things," when Severus passes Remus a note that we never find out the contents of - but Remus "unfolded it and began to read, blushing scarlet almost immediately," so you can bet it was probably pretty inappropriate (or overly sentimental for Severus, at least). The next incident (first kiss) is at the end of the next chapter, "On New Beginnings." It doesn't say outright that they kissed each other, but I've not met anyone yet who hasn't figured out that that's what happened. There's another kiss in Chapter 18, "On Christmas," and then the one in the last chapter. So why do you people keep saying I don't have enough in here? Honestly . . . if you want R-rated, go to LiveJournal. There's some good stuff there.

Aaanywayy . . . enough of me. On to Umbridge. **Eleonora1**, this plot bunny's for you. And this chapter is dedicated to **atalantapendrag** of LiveJournal, who made me a beautiful new Severus icon (you can visit my LiveJournal at the username masterofone).

* * *

"I don't understand why you wanted me to come here with you. I thought you wanted to do this." 

Remus huddled closer to Severus and Harry, trying to keep his head down. "I do want to, but . . . "

Harry squeezed Remus' hand, as much for his own reassurance as for Remus'. "It's going to be okay, Remus, really. I mean . . . we're bound to tell the truth, aren't we?"

Remus and Severus both shook their heads. "Veritaserum can be fought in many cases (1)," Severus answered, "especially when you know you've taken it. That's why Aurors try to sneak it into the people they're questioning, to ensure they're not fighting as diligently against it."

The courtroom stood as the Wizengamot entered. Remus whimpered into Severus' shoulder. He hadn't eaten anything that morning. Harry'd never seen him so nervous.

The Minister was not presiding at this trial, unlike he had at Harry's, because of a possible conflict of interest. Instead, Amelia Bones took his place.

"Bring in the prisoner," she declared, and Dolores Umbridge, flanked by Aurors on either side and wearing only a plain grey robe, strode in and stood sulkily in front of the stone chair Harry recognised both from the Pensieve and his own experience. Amelia Bones' voice carried throughout the room.

"Dolores Jane Umbridge, age 53 (2), currently residing at The Oaks manor in the Sussex Downs?" Amelia Bones eyed the toadlike woman standing and sulking on the floor until she nodded, grudgingly, at which point she was ordered to sit. The chains on the chair's arms clinked and clanked and snaked over her wrists.

"Dolores Umbridge, you are here today to answer to claims that you have used an Unforgivable Curse on two humans; that you have abused the powers of your office to an excessive and destructive degree, that you have lied under oath to the Wizengamot in order to meet your own ends or the ends of others instead of the ends of justice; that you have intended or committed acts of harm against a minor; that you have intended and attempted to use an Unforgivable Curse on a minor; that you have set dementors on a minor; that you have set dementors against an innocent person; and that you have affiliated with known members of that group calling and styling themselves the Death Eaters, also the servants of that former wizard known as Lord Voldemort, in an attempt to infiltrate and destroy our manner of government. Anything you say in this court may be used against you or cross-examined. Witnesses can and will be called to testify against you or, if you so choose, in your favor if you have arranged for this matter. You are considered innocent until proven guilty and if charges of guilt are passed you will be sentenced by your peers, those members of the court currently standing before you, at that time."

Amelia Bones cleared her throat. "Presiding: Amelia Bones. Recording: Percival Ignatius Weasley. Are we ready to begin?"

* * *

Several nerve-wracking hours passed, and then Harry was called to testify about his own trial almost two years ago, and the reign of terror Umbridge had inspired at Hogwarts (apparently Lisa Turpin had told her mother about Harry's detentions). Remus looked only slightly more relaxed, and Harry suspected he wouldn't relax entirely until after he'd had his turn. Amelia Bones motioned Harry forward, not unkindly, to the small wooden box at the end of the table where he, and the other witnesses, were sitting. Harry put his hands on the ledge and tried not to cringe under the scrutiny. Harry'd started Apparition lessons in October, as a precaution in case he had to get away from Voldemort; the horrible feeling of disappearing into nothing, as though he were no more substantial than a sugar cube, was nothing compared to this. He gave his name and address (none; the apartment building where he and Remus had lived last summer had been destroyed by marauding, disorganized post-Voldemort Death Eaters) and took an oath before Amelia Bones fixed her monocle more tightly over her eye and peered at him. 

The matter of the dementors was over in several minutes; the _Sectumius_ quill took a bit longer. Finally, growing tired of the intense scrutiny, Harry held up his right hand, turned the back toward the Wizengamot, and made a fist. "Here, I've still got scars if you'd care to see them," he stated. Amelia Bones sent a representative of the Wizengamot to examine Harry's hand. The short, stout wizard examined the pearly scars for several moments before turning to the people seated along the back wall.

"It says 'I must not tell lies,' Your Honor," the man announced. Amelia Bones nodded for him to retake his seat. The questioning went through Hagrid and Remus' examinations, the removal of Hagrid from Hogwarts, and the Inquisitorial Squad (who had, it transpired, been authorized to use violence to end the rebellion of the students against Umbridge).

If Harry'd thought that was bad, the questioning over her use of the Cruciatus was even worse.

"You are positive this is the spell she intended to use?"

"Yes." (Severus had already told him not to get impatient and start in with "I already _told_ you . . . " because, in the interest of ensuring everything was correct, things did tend to get repeated.)

"And you are certain of this in what manner, seeing that it was not cast on you?"

"She said she was going to use it, for one, and for another she was halfway through saying the spell before she was stopped."

"And how was she stopped?"

"One of my friends pretended to tell her what she wanted to know. Load of rubbish, actually," Harry added, thinking of the "secret weapon" hiding in the trees of the Dark Forest.

"And what exactly do you mean, Mr. Potter, by 'a load of rubbish?'"

"I mean Hermione - a friend of mine - made up a story to distract her so she wouldn't curse me."

"Ah." A short pause. "And this, as I understand, is how the accused found herself in the Dark Forest that stands on the Hogwarts grounds?"

"Right."

"And was then attacked by a herd of centaurs."

"After she made a right good job of insulting them, yes."

A pause. "Thank you, Mr. Potter." Another pause. "Does the accused wish to object to any of the statements made by Mr. Harry Potter?"

Dolores Umbridge nodded furiously. "I certainly do!"

"The accused will please proceed."

"Mr. Potter refused to act appropriately in class," Dolores Umbridge began furiously. "I reprimanded him several times before giving him detention. Later he would take part in an illegal group that was learning the Dark Arts in order to overthrow the Ministry. And finally, Mr. Potter and his aforementioned friend led me into the Dark Forest, leading me to believe that there was some kind of weapon hidden within it, and then set the centaurs on me. In addition, I caught him breaking into my office to converse with a person or persons unknown, although I had reason to believe he was contacting Sirius Black."

Harry made a sound of disbelieving anger in his throat. Amelia Bones turned her attention to him. "Does Mr. Potter wish to object to any of the statements made by Miss Dolores Umbridge?"

"Yeah, I do," Harry answered, his rage rising. "I didn't listen in class because what she was teaching us was rubbish - we didn't even get to practice the spells that are supposed to protect us in the real world. I mean, even if Voldemort _hadn't_ been out there, that's not to say that nobody else could try to take his place at some point within our lifetimes, right? Someone we'd have to defend ourselves against? I taught the Defense Against the Dark Arts group she talked about, and when I taught it I only knew three Dark spells - the Unforgiveables - and that's because we learned about them in class the year before. I couldn't cast them then, and I can't cast them now. We never even discussed them, except in the context of how to protect yourself against them. I taught things like disarming and Stunning and how to conjure a Patronus, not Dark magic. And we wouldn't have had to lead her into the forest so we could get away from her if she hadn't tried to curse me for one, and if she hadn't let the Slytherins hurt - and almost kill - several of our other friends for another!"

Amelia Bones looked impressed. Apparently Harry's latent talent for instant comebacks was growing thanks to his contact with Remus and Severus. Harry took a deep breath. "And finally . . . I was in her office because all our mail was being searched for no apparent good reason, and the Floo network was being monitored, also for no apparent good reason. and I had to talk to Sirius - she was right about that bit - but I couldn't because of - all the stuff going on - you know."

Umbridge sat gaping like a fish. Amelia Bones nodded at Harry. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You may stand down." A pause.

"Remus Lupin will take the stand."

Remus stood up, looking ready to faint. Severus forced him to take a small baggie of vegetable crisps (3) with him. Remus nibbled halfheartedly on the corner of one of the crisps until he was asked to take the oath, at which point he set the baggie down on the ledge of the box so he could put his right hand on his heart and his left in the air. He seemed to relax visibly once the oath was taken, and he finished his first crisp before starting on another while the Wizengamot rearranged papers and so on. He'd finished a grand total of four crisps before the questioning began. Harry was stunned to learn that the adult werewolf Umbridge had cursed was in fact Remus.

"This occurred when?"

"In . . . oh . . . I'm going to say maybe March, in 1992. It was cold, but most of the snow was melted except for those big piles that take forever to disappear. I remember that."

"And you gave the accused no just cause to attack you?"

"No." Remus took a deep breath the same way he did in classes. "I was in this sort of dead-end alley place in London - one of those with three or four tiny little shops in it - because I was looking for this place someone in the soup kitchen told me about. I was coming out of the alley when I ran into her - I didn't know who she was at the time - and I figured since she was there I'd ask for directions. She gave me this sort of disgusted look and said she guessed next I'd want money. I told her I'd be happy to take any spare change she was willing to give up because I was tired of eating cold bag lunches from the food van (4) but I wasn't going to make her give me anything if she didn't want to, and that was when she cursed me."

"You didn't approach her in a threatening manner or declare violent or harmful intentions?"

"No. I just sort of bumped into her by accident when I was coming out of the alley. It just happened that she was a witch. It could have been anybody on the street, that sort of thing happens all the time in London."

"And what were you doing in that alley?"

"I was looking for a homeless shelter someone at the soup kitchen told me about. I didn't have a place to live at that point and I'd been sleeping in a garage for most of the winter, but then the owners came back from holiday and I didn't think they'd appreciate having a strange man staying there even though I never took or damaged anything. So I needed a place to sleep other than down a dead end hoping it wouldn't snow and freeze me to death."

"So it would have made no difference to you if she had been a Muggle?"

"No. I've got a lot of Muggle friends. It doesn't bother me. I just wanted directions."

"Do you think she could have misconstrued your actions as aggressive?"

Remus paused. "I don't see how," he finally answered. "I mean, I told her straight out that I didn't want anything she wasn't willing to give, and all I was carrying at the time was a peanut butter sandwich in a baggie and a paper with really, really bad directions and an address on it. My pockets were mostly empty, and what was in them wasn't anything big, so she couldn't have thought I was carrying a weapon, even, unless she knew somehow that I was a wizard and carrying a wand, and I don't see how she could have."

"Assuming that the accused had given you money, what would you have done with it?"

"That would depend on the amount."

"Why?"

"Because I was basically saving coins out of the gutter at that point," Remus reminisced. "I think the biggest thing I ever found was a watch that I returned to the owner and got a five-pound reward for, and the largest amount of money was no more than half a pound. If I'd had enough I would have gone and got something hot to eat or a new pair of shoes - mine were mostly held together with glue I'd got at a discount store. If not I'd just have kept saving."

"How long were you subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus looked perplexed. "I have no idea. I didn't own a watch then and there weren't any of those clocks you see sometimes outside market buildings. I don't think I was actually _under_ it for very long, but it felt like a good deal of time."

Amelia Bones nodded understandingly. "And when it was lifted what happened?"

"She told me that no decent citizen ought to be subjected to my kind of filth."

"Do you have any idea what she was referring to?"

"I think maybe - well, I think one of two things. I hadn't had a chance to wash my clothes in two or three days, and like I said it was some time around March. You walk the streets all day and sleep in doorways at night, you're bound to get unbelievably muddy in a startlingly short period of time at that time of year, so I didn't exactly look like a rose in June. That's one. And I think the other might have been the idea, however erroneous, that homeless people are all lazy, or drug addicts or alcoholics or things like that, therefore they're scum."

"And did you reply to the comment made by the accused?"

"I was still trying to catch my breath. She walked away before I could say anything."

"I see. Could I ask you about your examination by the accused when she held the position formerly known as 'High Inquisitor'?"

"Of course."

"I would like you to recount it, if you would, Mr. Lupin."

Remus detailed the day Umbridge had watched the class, citing her constant interruptions and attempts to undermine his authority, as well as her disapproval of his disciplining a student for inappropriate behavior. He continued the narrative up to the point that he received the letter demanding his resignation, and then, at Amelia Bones' request, narrated the day that Nefertiti Jones had spent in his classroom as opposed to his first examination. Umbridge seemed too much in shock to protest, but when it came her turn to do so she did so quite soundly - unfortunately for her, Remus' clear and careful recitation of the facts had rattled her to the point that she left several gaping holes in her version of the story - including the part where she made no attempt to hide the fact that she agreed quite thoroughly with Draco Malfoy about his comments in class. The Wizengamot was asked to deliberate. A two hour recess was ordered. Harry supported his guardian as they left the dungeon courtroom to go get a breath of air and a bite to eat. Remus was muttering worriedly about the possibility of Umbridge getting off, and what would happen to his job if she did.

"Remus, calm down. She's been stripped of her credibility now. Even if she gets off, she can't touch you," Harry reasoned. "And anyway . . . if Dumbledore and Severus aren't enough to protect you . . . " a grin spread slowly across his face. "You've got sixteen hundred people who stood up for you before, and they'd do it again, I'm sure."

Severus carefully removed Remus' scarf from his partner's hands - in his anxiety, Remus had twisted it almost to the point of shredding it. "Harry has a point, Remus," the darkhaired man pointed out, trying to be careful of Remus' hands - sans the scarf, he was now wringing his hands desperately and Severus was slightly worried about the possibility that Remus would have bad bruises on his hands, lycanthropic blood or no. "They can't do a thing."

Remus nodded absentmindedly. Sympathetic to Remus' nerve-twisted stomach, Severus ordered him a bowl of chicken soup and some crackers with tea when they sat down at a small streetside cafe. A more ravenous Harry chose a chicken salad and a dish of shepherd's pie. Severus didn't order anything but a cup of iced coffee. (Harry was highly amused when Severus promptly emptied half the coffee into a second cup, finished filling the first with milk, and added three teaspoons of sugar.) Apparently Severus' nerves weren't faring any better than his partner's. Harry, however, didn't have any worries. Umbridge had had this coming to her for years, he was sure.

* * *

"The Wizengamot finds Dolores Umbrige guilty of using an Unforgiveable curse and recognises the claimants: Remus Lupin and the mother of Emily Greenhorn. However, because of a corollary to the original sentencing laws in regard to the use of the Cruciatus curse . . . Dolores Umbridge has been sentenced to two years in Azkaban on each count of use of an Unforgiveable curse, to be served consecutively (5)." 

The courtroom, filled with Hogwarts students (so many of the older students had begged to go to the trial in order to show support for Remus that all students in fifth year and above had been excused for the day), began to buzz angrily. Four years for her crimes? Outrage!

The spokeswitch for the sentencing continued placidly. "The Wizengamot finds Dolores Umbridge guilty of abusing the powers of her office to an undue and destructive degree, and has voted in favor of Dolores Umbridge being suspended from Ministry work in addition to a two year sentence in Azkaban, consecutive to the sentence of the former charge."

More buzzing, though it was slightly more satisfied. The witch plowed on.

"The Wizengamot finds Dolores Umbridge guilty of four counts of perjury and sentences her to three years in Azkaban per count, to be served consecutively to the sentences of the former charges."

"That's a total of eighteen years!" Hermione whispered to Lavender Brown, who was sitting next to her and glaring with all her puppy-eyed might at the grey-clad toad. Lavender smiled and passed this news on to Ginny and Luna behind her, Parvati to her immediate left, and Dean Thomas and Ernie MacMillan in front of her. Hermione repeated the news to Ron (sitting on her right), who lost no time in conveying it to his seatmate, some fifth-year Hufflepuff girl he didn't actually know. The buzzing began again.

"The Wizengamot finds Dolores Umbridge guilty of twenty-two out of forty-six counts of violence or harm intended or committed against a minor or minors unnamed and sentences her to three months in Azkaban per count, to be served consecutively to the sentences of the former charges."

More angry buzzing.

"Further, for each of the remaining twenty-four counts, Dolores Umbridge will complete ten hours of unpaid service in the Werewolf Liasion Office upon her release from Azkaban."

Several people snickered as Umbridge paled.

"The Wizengamot finds Dolores Umbridge guilty of two counts of violation of the Dark Creature laws as regard Dementors, one of these counts against a Muggle minor(6). For this crime the Wizengamot sentences Dolores Umbridge to one year in Deleohominum (7) Institute."

Remus gasped this time. Sirius had got off lucky on one count for not having a trial: he would surely have ended up in Deleohominum if he had, and if he had he'd have never survived for twelve years. Deleohominum Institute was the Wizarding version of death row; once you got in, you really didn't get out. Nobody had even _attempted_ a true breakout from Deleohominum in its 400-year history, much less succeeded at one - not even an Animagus from the 1700s who'd tried to worm out as a snake. Remus almost - but not quite - pitied her.

"And finally . . . The Wizengamot strikes its sentence of unpaid service -" the buzzing became so loud that the spokeswitch actually held up her hand to abridge it - "in light of the fact that it will never be served. The Wizengamot finds Dolores Umbridge guilty of consorting and conspiring with known members of that group calling itself the Death Eaters, comforting and abetting members of aforesaid group, and passing on confidential intelligence from within the Ministry with the full and coherent knowledge that said information would be used by the Dark wizard formerly styling himself Lord Voldemort. For these crimes the Wizengamot sentences Dolores Umbridge to life in Azkaban."

* * *

Grimmauld Place was a great scene of jubilation that evening. Most of Harry's classmates had crowded in along with several of the teachers, Sirius, Remus' sisters Bugsy and Catherine (they'd even dragged Ty along with them, and Catherine had brought her husband Stephen), and once classes ended on the other side of the Atlantic, Mary Anne Floo'ed through to "party hard" with her older brother. It was close to eleven o'clock when everyone finally got back to wherever they were supposed to be going (Mary Anne only left because it was time for supper back in Maine), at which point Severus and Sirius sat at the kitchen table, staring at each other, and Remus finished wiping up a few last dishes. Harry was sitting at the far end of the kitchen table, staring at his hands and acting oddly morose. Finally Remus sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. Harry stood up and made to leave the kitchen. 

"Hey there, where are you going?" Remus called, and Harry wheeled abruptly, sitting back down at the table mechanically. "What's going _on_ with you the past few days, Harry?" Remus prompted. Harry shrugged. Severus cut in.

"This is about -" he gestured between Remus and Sirius - "isn't it?"

Harry looked up without quite raising his head, creating the overall effect of a kicked puppy. Sirius rolled his eyes and reached out to ruffle his former godson's hair. "We already talked about this, Harry. I'm not such a bastard I'd take you away from a place you're happy in." He paused, and then gave his trademark mischievous grin. "Anyway, Remus probably makes a far better father figure than I do. He'd be the one grounding you for going out and getting drunk, and I'd be the one passing a six-pack in through your window."

Harry couldn't help but laugh slightly at that. Then Remus said his bit.

"I really think you'd be better off staying with Sirius, though, Harry," he interjected, trying to be gentle about it. "I mean, I've been looking for another apartment, but I haven't been able to find one - and I know we've got about two months until the end of school, but the way things are going I'm probably going to end up staying there over the summer. At least here you'd have a real roof over your head, instead of being out on the street."

"Complete bollocks," Severus cut in, and Remus turned to stare at him. "Don't talk rubbish. You're coming to Kent."

"What's in Kent?"

"My house."

Harry looked puzzled. "I thought you had an apartment."

"I did. When Voldemort was still alive. I haven't been there in four years, but I daresay if we took a week or two to clean it up we could make it pass."

Remus looked shell-shocked. "You mean - we could -"

"It's a decent-sized house." Severus paused. "Well . . . compared to a _normal_ house, it's fairly large. Don't ever hold it up next to Malfoy Manor, though, because you'll make it look like a fish shack."

Harry stared at Remus. Remus stared at Severus. Severus pretended to be nonchalantly examining his fingernails. Finally Sirius stood, walked to the carving table, and removed the butcher knife from the rack. He returned and set the knife down in the middle of the table. Everyone stared at it, then at him. Sirius smiled demurely.

"Just figured somebody might want to cut the tension."

* * *

"Doesn't that seem awfully fast to you, Harry?" Hermione prompted, her quill hovering nervously, quivering, over her essay on Polyjuice Potion. "I mean, they haven't even been together for a year -"

"It's not like Remus is throwing away his whole life for it, Hermione, give Harry a break. Aren't you the one who keeps telling him to finish his Potions essay?" Ron cut in. Hermione huffed and refused to look at him.

"He's got a point though, Hermione. If we'd still had the apartment, I don't think Remus would do it, but we really don't have anywhere else to go."

Luna sat down next to him and sighed. O.W.L.s were creeping ever closer, and even she was feeling the strain. Harry took her hand encouragingly. Hermione tried not to grin knowingly. (She didn't succeed.) Luna closed her eyes and leaned on Harry's shoulder. "I've spent all day writing essays, Harry, do you know that?" she murmured, tipping a bagful of parchment rolls on to the table. "Oh, my eyes hurt . . . "

Hermione waved her wand and handed Luna a small, cool pack of - something - to put over her eyes. "You've probably got eyestrain, Luna," Hermione admonished. "You really ought to write your essays as they're assigned - "

"I have been," Luna replied. A feistier tone would have suggested an argument, but she sounded pale and worn out. "Professor Flitwick assigned one yesterday, and so did Professors McGonagall and Snape and Binns, and I had almost two hundred pages to read for Muggle Studies . . . N.E.W.Ts aren't this bad, are they?"

She sounded like she wanted an optimistic answer, not a true one.

"Well . . . we haven't taken the real N.E.W.T.s yet, but I know Remus has two sisters who are taking them this year and they're both doing pretty well. Well, Mary Anne is doing well. Margarette kind of freaks out about _everything_."

Luna nodded, picked up her bag wearily, and moved toward a carrel in the back of the library - she still had hours of cross-referencing ahead of her. "Thank you for the ice, Hermione," she shot over her shoulder as she walked away, and Hermione smiled at her as she glanced back over her shoulder.

Luna was no more than just barely out of earshot when Ron poked Harry in the side. "What was _that_ all about, mate?"

"Er - nothing. Ron, do you know what causes Imperio Potion to curdle?" Harry bent his head toward his parchment to hide the blushing grin growing on his face.

* * *

(The fairly long) **REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) JKR confirmed this in an online interview when someone asked why Fudge didn't simply apply Veritaserum to Sirius when he was caught in PoA, or even before that when he was first captured, to ensure that they had the right man. Barty Crouch Jr. would have had a hard time fighting it because he was a) caught unawares and b) just waking up from being Stunned when he was questioned. However, if you know it's coming, it's sort of like pain - you're better steeled against it. You can also be allergic, resistant, or immune to it - so it's not as reliable as Snape makes it sound in GoF.

(2) I couldn't remember her age being listed in the books, so I checked the Harry Potter Lexicon (a source JKR also uses, so you better believe it's pretty accurate) where, lo and behold, no age is listed; I therefore gave her an age, place of residence, and so on. If this information is listed in any foreign (non-US) copies of the book (most likely OotP), please pass it on to me. Also, an additional sidenote: Although Harry is tried by the full Wizengamot, his is not a criminal trial to this extent, nor are the trials of Barty Crouch Jr/the Lestranges/unknown man, or Karkaroff, that we see in the Pensieve. Therefore, this trial setup is basically created by me.

(3) For those who don't remember from earlier in the story, "crisps" are what we Americans call "chips." I am thinking here of a kind of cracker, actually, that is called Vegetable Thins - I think it's made by Nabisco, but I wouldn't swear to that. I know giving someone potato chips/crisps on an empty stomach (especially when said person is quite nervous) is about the stupidest thing you can do, hence the final draft changed this from "crisps" to "vegetable crisps," which are actually quite sustaining and delicious.

(4) Don't know if anybody knows the real name for these, but I do hope so. They're sort of mobile soup kitchens that move around day to day so they can help as many homeless people as possible. Some of them also offer free medical care to homeless people and hand out "new" (donated - usually gently used, Salvation Army-type) clothing.

(5) This means she'd be serving the sentences one after the other, as opposed to simultaneous serving (serving both sentences at the same time). Also, this corollary does, sadly, deal with the fact that Remus and little Emily were both werewolves. Keep it in mind, because I might end up using it again (and as Hermione would say, if you'd done your homework and paid attention to Remus' lessons, you'd have known this was coming AGES ago, because Cho asked about it . . . LOL, okay, that one was a bit obscure).

(6) When the Dementors attacked Harry and Dudley in OotP. Umbridge later confirmed that she'd "sent" them, in order to destroy Harry's credibility.

(7) Same Latin site as before.

Deleo: to destroy, wipe out, erase. blot out, erase /annihilate, destroy. to obliterate, efface.

Hominum: Human ("genus hominum" means "human race").


	24. 23: With Vengeance

AUTHOR NOTES:

Wow! There were lots of reviews, but no actual questions. So, thanks to everyone who reviewed, but most of all to **A Dawn Rae**, who gave me -SQUEE!- my 100th review! She gets a write-in in a few chapters, lucky girl . . . but there are still chances for others, because I am removing my anon reviews and going all brand-name, if you will (anon's tend to attract flamers), so the number 100 spot will most likely soon be open again . . . and if not, there's always 200!

**RATING: **This chapter is rated **T/PG-13** for **language**, **moderate het relationship (kissing, hugging, etc.)**, and **moderate homosexuality**. Don't like, skip it (but I'm warning you, the next chapter has a mild sex scene in it . . . )

* * *

"What's that in your hair, Loony?" 

Harry froze as he heard the familiar voices in the next corridor. One was Marietta Edgecombe. One was . . . it couldn't be . . . she wouldn't . . . would she?

"She looks like Draco and the Longbottom boy's toad had an affair, doesn't she?"

Harry peeked around the corner. Luna was standing, trying not to cry, on the open-air terrace by the trophy room, being terrorized by Marietta and - he knew he'd heard that voice before - Cho Chang. She had an enormous ornamental butterfly fluttering in her hair just above her ear. Contrary to looking like a cross between Malfoy and a toad, Harry thought she looked rather nice. Certainly the butterfly was much better than the orange radish earrings, although he wouldn't ever have told her that.

"Look at that, Cho. She's crying. What's the matter, Loony?"

"Her name is Luna," Harry said loudly, turning the corner full-on and causing the two older Ravenclaws to jump guiltily, "and if you're going to stoop so low as to pick on someone two years younger than you, you shouldn't be wearing that badge, Marietta." He pointed to the Head Girl badge on her robes.

"Ooh, has Potty got a gurrrrrlfriend?" Marietta taunted.

Harry froze. How was he supposed to answer that? Especially in front of Cho? Should he answer at all? Walk away? Threaten to tell a teacher?

_Why do you care what Cho thinks?_

"Yeah, I have got," Harry answered, grabbing Luna's hand, "and her name is Luna."

"Why on _earth_ would you want to go out with Luna _Lovegood_, Harry?" Cho looked genuinely confused.

"Because she's smart, and she's funny, and she doesn't run 'round crying all the time!" Harry announced, growing angrier by the minute. Couldn't they just leave her alone, couldn't they -

"But she's _crazy_," Cho continued, sounding more and more like a petulant five-year-old. "And she -"

"Come on, Cho," Marietta urged, "we need to get up to Divination for the N.E.W.T. exam . . . "

Harry grabbed at Cho's arm as she turned away. She gave a sharp gasp and pulled away.

It was her left arm.

Harry yanked her forward and shoved her sleeve up her arm. The skull and snake glinted a dull red. He raised his head to meet her eyes. Predictably, they were swimming with tears.

"When did you get this?"

Cho sobbed. "H-h-he t-told me he c-c-c-could -"

"Bring back Diggory, right?"

Cho nodded.

"He said the same thing about my parents, Cho."

"You - you're going to turn me in, aren't you?"

Harry considered. "No, not now." Both girls visibly relaxed.

"But I think you need to get your priorities straight, Cho. Diggory wouldn't be dead if Voldemort hadn't killed him in the first place because he was 'the spare.' Voldemort didn't give a damn about him. He just wanted another puppet." He paused. The girls stared at him.

"Get out of here."

They were only too happy to comply.

Luna grabbed his other wrist as soon as Cho and Marietta had disappeared. "Harry - did you - mean that? About me being - your girlfriend?"

Oh. That. Right.

"Er - well - I mean - " Harry grew redder with every word. "I mean - I know I never asked you, but - well - that's - if you don't want to be -"

"I'd love to be!" Luna hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek. That made the third or fourth time since October, didn't it? Harry thought to himself.

Luna suddenly caught sight of his watch and gasped. "I have to go, Harry - I'm supposed to be downstairs for the Potions practical this morning."

That wasn't possible, Harry thought, Snape couldn't oversee two years at one time -

Oh, right.

Luna had her O.W.L.s.

"Good luck," he offered, and Luna beamed before hugging him again and speeding away toward the dungeons.

* * *

"This has to have been one of the longest days of my life," Remus sighed, sinking deeply into Severus' couch. Severus raised his eyebrow. 

"I do hate to break the news to you, Remus, but today is June fourth, not June twenty-first."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Remus slipped out of his shoes and dug his toes into the black and white carpet.

"June 21 is the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year and consequently 'one of the longest days of your life.' June fourth is not."

Severus sat down next to his partner. Remus promptly leaned against him. "I do _not_ like grading exams."

"Neither do I, but we have to set them."

"I know."

A pause. "I had Harry this morning."

"Oh? How did he do?"

"I have no idea where his head was this morning, but it most certainly wasn't in the Potions lab. He'll be lucky if he gets an 'A conditioned' between the practical and the written exam. I haven't read the paper yet, but I have the feeling it's just as bad as his potion."

"I heard he was standing up for Luna today."

"Mmm."

"They look so sweet together, don't you think?"

Severus turned to look at the tiny man on the sofa. "Remus, the word 'sweet' is not in my vocabulary unless it happens to be in reference to sugar, buttercream icing, or those little round chocolate things you get from the Muggle sweets shelf in Honeydukes."

"They're called M&M's, Severus."

"Yes, those."

"Well, don't you think they look _good_ together?"

"The only thing that looks _good_ to me right now is the prospect of dinner."

"But that would mean getting up, Severus," Remus pouted.

Severus leaned over again and pressed his lips to Remus' cheek. "You silly Gryffindor fool, you can't keep missing meals or people are going to think we never feed you. Come on. Up, up, up -"

"And away we go," Remus finished, trying not to laugh as Severus grimaced.

"Do you _have_ to do that, Remus?"

Remus gave him a boyish grin and pushed himself off the hideous plaid sofa. "Well, it sure beats hell out of 'may the Force be with you,' doesn't it?"

Severus groaned freely. Remus could say all he wished about them; Severus did _not_ like science fiction movies.

* * *

"So she actually -" 

"But what's-her-name didn't -"

"And you really -"

"And she said -"

"Yes, no, yes, and yes," Harry snapped out. He was really getting tired of this. Ron and Hermione had asked him the same questions in every possible form ever since he'd rushed into class this morning and explained, rather badly if the truth be told, that he'd had a run-in with Cho Chang and her friend. That had been almost nine hours ago and they still hadn't tired of hearing the answers.

"Mate, you've really lost it this time," Ron opined through a mouthful of vegetable soup. "I mean, Cho Chang was bad enough, but why'd you want to go declaring your undying love for someone who's just - well - she's _Loony_, Harry, and you -"

A small, sudden sob from behind him caused Harry to turn around just in time to see waist-length blonde hair disappearing out the doors of the Great Hall. (1) He turned furiously back to the oblivious redhead, who was still spouting about Luna seeing things and believing everything she heard.

"Thanks a lot, Ron, she heard you."

"She - huh? Why's it matter? She's always got her head in the clouds anyway."

Ron's older brothers could have told him that it didn't matter how close you were to someone; badmouthing their girlfriend was a good way to get hit. He didn't even see the hand coming until it knocked him right out of his chair. He scrambled to his feet, confused. A foot shorter or no, Harry seemed to tower over him. The indignant boy sputtered a few furious words at Ron before turning on his heel and striding out of the Hall. Ron stared at Hermione, hoping for a hint about what he'd done wrong. Hermione just sighed and shook her head before pushing back her chair, looking regretfully at her half-eaten soup and chicken, and led Ron out of the Hall to take care of his rapidly swelling eye.

* * *

"Luna?" Remus stuck his head cautiously around the door of the girls' bathroom. His status was no secret anymore (not that it ever was, really, at least to anyone shrewd enough to read the signs), but that didn't mean that some of the more immature girls didn't still shriek at him if he tried to go into a girls' bathroom with a shower in it (Lavender Brown among that elite group of females; she seemed to think it positively romantic to be followed into the bathroom by a male teacher, something Remus still thought he wouldn't ever understand). Nobody was in this one, however, except for the Ravenclaw prefect sitting on the wooden bench at the end of the room, sobbing. 

And therein lay the rub, Remus thought - Luna took all kinds of criticism and bullying with nary a word of complaint; it was as though the words didn't affect her at all. But what else could have sent her fleeing from the Great Hall? Especially as Harry and Ron had been sitting right across from her (albeit at different tables), and as soon as she'd left a fistfight had broken out between them? Severus had accosted Ron on his way out of the Hall with Hermione; now he was looking for Harry.

Remus had been spurred on to hunt for Luna; he knew her better, maybe, than any other teacher in the school, smiling at her strange fancies and whims instead of allowing them to annoy him, and perhaps for that reason he'd become her confidante. She didn't seem to have any friends, but that didn't really seem to bother her beyond the occasional bout of loneliness. More sensible students than Luna Lovegood had been known to be "rash" in a fit of despair, though, and Remus had pointed this out to the Headmaster before hurrying out of the Hall himself. The memory of Hermione and the troll on Hallowe'en still lived vividly in the minds of the staff; none of them wanted to find out that the _mani a lei _(2) approach, as Severus called it, had caused harm to a student.

Now Remus focused himself on trying to calm the distraught blonde, who was hastily wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her school robes.

"Everything all right? You left pretty quickly tonight." He sat down beside her on the bench. Luna shrugged (Remus frowned; the idea of Luna Lovegood doing something so mundane as shrugging her shoulders was something akin to the thought of Petunia Dursley disemboweling a flobberworm) and stared down at the worn square of white cotton he offered her. Finally she took it and wiped her still-wet eyes on it, and then laughed a short, watery note.

"You must think I'm being so silly," she murmured. Remus shook his head at her.

"I don't even know why you ran out, Luna," Remus reminded her, gently.

Luna sobbed into the handkerchief and spilled out the entire story, ending with a distraught "and what if he believes it, Professor, he'll never speak to me again and he's the only friend I've got . . . " She sniffled again.

"I don't think he'd do that, Luna."

The blonde looked up at him in a display of hopefulness that was almost pathetic in its desperation. "You mean that?"

Remus paused, as though considering. "Well . . . he did slap Ron across the face, so I'd have to say that no, he's not planning on abandoning you any time soon."

Luna gave the watery laugh again. "He did that?"

Remus nodded, trying not to smile. He was torn between wanting to reprimand Harry for hitting his friends, and wanting to praise him for standing up for a girl (which, according to the way Remus had been raised, was a very honorable thing to do). As a teacher, however, he was required to disapprove.

The door banged open. Severus dragged Harry in with little fanfare and forced him to stand directly in front of Remus. Harry wouldn't look up from his left shoe, which he seemed to find strangely fascinating.

"He's staying in your quarters tonight, Remus," Severus announced without preamble. Remus stared for several undignified seconds before getting his voice back.

"Harry, what did you do?"

"When we got the two of them together, Weasley started letting his mouth run ahead of his brain again," Severus informed him.

"That bad, eh?" Remus eyed Harry, who seemed to be surreptiously nursing his shoulder.

"It took Minerva and I just to keep Weasley alive," Severus drawled. "Albus and Poppy both joined us before we could get them apart."

Remus raised his eyebrows. Harry burst out in a furious and incoherent tirade about people with no brains. Severus slid a hand over his mouth.

"Enough."

Harry looked furious. Remus stood up and took his arm. "Severus, would you mind taking Luna up to Ravenclaw Tower if she doesn't want to go back to the Great Hall?"

Severus nodded.

* * *

Remus led Harry away to his own quarters, where he asked Harry to sit on the couch and wait for him. He left and returned with two cups of some kind of frothy, chocolatey coffee drink (3), handing one to Harry and drinking out of the other. Finally he set his mug down on the coffee table and gave Harry a _look_. Harry responded with an oh-boy-here-it-comes expression. 

"Harry, I'm very disappointed in you."

The look on Harry's face was akin to someone who'd been slapped - hard. Remus pretended not to notice and continued.

"I know you were trying to defend someone you care about, but Harry, what you did is far from appropriate."

Harry bowed his head. Remus was amazed. In six years Severus had never been able to shame him, and the Slytherin Head of House was far better at disciplining students than Remus was.

"You could have really hurt him, and that would have caused far more problems than just going to the Hospital Wing, Harry. You're sixteen years old. If you'd done any kind of severe damages, you'd have been in trouble with the Ministry. Is making Ron respect Luna really worth ending up with a criminal record, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, still not looking up. Remus stood up from the couch.

"Apparently Severus already spoke with the Headmaster," he added. "You're not going to be allowed to go to Hogsmeade next weekend, and you earned yourself a three-day suspension. Madam Pomfrey is working on Ron right now - you broke his nose, and his cheekbone, as I understand."

"Good."

"Harry!"

"Well, he deserved it, Remus!"

Remus sighed and shook his head. "I can see I'm not going to get anywhere with this. Well - good night, Harry." He turned, regrettring what he had to say next, but he didn't have much of a choice.

"I shall have to speak with the Headmaster tomorrow regarding your actions, Harry," he concluded. "I don't understand why you consider this something you should be proud of, because I certainly don't see it that way."

Harry bowed his head again.

Remus went to his bedroom to retrieve a pair of pajamas for Harry. He stopped short in the living room door as he reentered it. Harry was still sitting, now with his face in his hands, not crying exactly, but by no means dry-eyed either.

Realization hit Remus like a pail of ice water: He, Harry's only parent, had disapproved of Harry's actions - and all Harry had wanted to do, ever since the day Remus had gotten custody, was to make his guardian proud. Never, not once in his life, had he lived up to anyone's expectations, and that was something he wanted desperately - and now Remus had proven to him that once again, he fell short of what was required of him.

Remus crossed the room, put the pajamas on the coffee table, and sat back down.

"You know, Harry - sometimes - well - oh, I don't know how to put it. But we all make mistakes. This was a pretty big one, Harry, and one that I hope you won't repeat."

Harry nodded mutely. Somewhat heartened, Remus continued.

"But even though I'm disappointed in the actions you took today, Harry . . . I still love you."

Harry looked up at his guardian and sniffled.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the haymow when I wasn't supposed to be, and I fell out into a great big haystack - luckily - and made a great big mess of myself, right after Mum washed my good shirt and trousers, no less?"

Harry shook his head.

"I broke my wrist. Mum took care of it, and then she whaled me."

Harry laughed uncertainly at Remus' picturesque way of describing a beating with what he and all his sibings had called, with reverence and dread, 'the strap.' A typical punishment with 'the strap,' really nothing but an old four-foot long strip of loosely braided cowhide, consisted of five hits right across the backside, with occasionally more or less depending on the offence (Remus' record was fourteen, for trying to climb the roof). After two or three run-ins with 'the strap' - four or five if you were really dense - you learned. Remus, though smart, was the troublemaker in the family and though he "learned," he could never quite help himself. He'd lost count of his own trips to the woodshed years ago. Now he waited for Harry to quiet himself before continuing.

"You know, in the twelve weeks it took for my wrist to heal, Harry, Mum helped me get my shirt on in the morning, and cut my meat for me, and made sure I wasn't going to break it again by doing something stupid. She was furious when she pulled me out of that haystack, but she didn't stop loving me just because I did something I wasn't supposed to."

Remus stood up and patted the pajamas on the coffee table. "You get changed, and tomorrow we'll go talk to Dumbledore and see if we can't at least get your work while you're out."

Harry nodded. Remus stood and made for the bedroom, pausing at the door to watch Harry padding toward the washroom. The temper of one and the mischief of the other, he thought. No doubt who his parents are.

"Although," Remus murmured to himself, "sometimes I really do wonder where he got a nose like that." (4)

* * *

REFERENCE NOTES: 

**(1)** All through the books (and even in the movies), the position of the House tables change. At times Gryffindor is third from the left; sometimes it's last in the row. It seems to me that at another point it's right next to Slytherin, which would make it second in line (since Slytherin is the only one that never seems to move but is always on the left-hand end). In this story the tables will always run (as viewed from left to right from the main doors of the Hall, facing toward the High Table) Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw.

**(2)** "Hands to yourself" in Italian. I have several Italian friends, and have noticed that many of them (or pictures of their older, more Italian-blooded ancestors) have many of the features we associate with canon-Severus: larger noses, dark, coarse hair (and two of them have to wash their hair twice a day or it looks oily, even though it's not dirty!), and dark eyes. In addition, "sallow" skin would be skin of darker coloring (like the olive coloring of many older Italian families) that didn't see much sun; the darkish coloring is enhanced by a perpetual suntan, so losing that tan (even if it's not a very pronounced one) creates an unhealthy-looking pallor. Ever since Brandi (one of the friends in question) pointed this out to me, I have been unable to view Severus as anything but part Italian and in fact I write him with a rather diverse heritage, so this is definitely not the last time that one of his quaint little bits of ancestral wisdom or foreign-language phrases will pop up.

**(3)** I invented this drink, actually, and it's quite good - and also something that I think Remus would love. Take the largest coffee cup you own (travel mugs work very well) and fill it half full of coffee. Make a cup of hot cocoa (as chocolatey as you like), using milk, NOT WATER (water makes the whole thing taste funny). Froth the milk if you can, but it's not necessary. Put two scoops of coffee-flavored ice cream (you can also use vanilla or French vanilla ice cream, but chocolate doesn't work - trust me) into the coffee, and pour the hot cocoa over it. If you'd like, drizzle a little bit of chocolate syrup over the top. Enjoy. (Note that this is going to be kind of chilly because of the ice cream - even though it makes use of things like hot milk and coffee, the ice cream turns it into an iced drink.)

**(4)** Remus is just amusing himself when he says this; there's no secret Lily-James-someone-else triangle going on here. Actually, you could almost say that he's referring to his own nose, sort of . . . in a sort of convoluted, Remus-being-silly sort of way.


	25. 24: With Frustration

LINER NOTES:  
I apologise right now for leading you lot on- the fact is, although BoI does have four drafts before it ever gets to your computer screen, sometimes there are simply problems I can't account for in paper first draft, and which don't materialise until I do third-draft formatting and proofing (ooh, PROOFING,that sounds so sophisticated . . . amazingly, it's nothing but a search for dropped commas and typos like "Snape" instead of "snap," one I make rather often -snort-). Therefore, I promised you guys THAT SCENE in this chapter, and until I had it in third draft in WordPad, I didn't have any idea just how far the rice gag (you'll understand when you read) was going to take me. In the original it was great, it stretched for about two and a half weeks, THAT SCENE would have been near the end of the middle of the chapter, and the chapter would have ended with Sirius, Remus, Severus, and Harry sitting down to eat dinner. Unfortunately, it occurred to me that sooner or later the rice would start to cause -ahem- problems, so I had to pare down the time, which gave me a two-week period that I still had to fill. In order to do so, I had to cut this (originally very long) chapter in half, and then reverse the two main parts of the second half (which will now be Chapter 25). That means that THAT SCENE is not in this chapter. Don't be too mad, please, though, because the scene is already completely written, I'm not copping out - and it WILL be in the next chapter, guaranteed - it just didn't work where I wanted it to.

**RATING:** Still at **PG-13/T**, mainly for **language** in this chapter.

**REVIEWS:** It's been confirmed that we ARE still allowed to answer reviews, so here you go:

**Eleonora1:** I decided not to block the anons, since several of my LJ friends read this story too, and it hasn't really been a problem. If it becomes one though, I will block. As to Ron: Do YOU think he'll ever learn? (I didn't think so either.) Plenty of Italian puns in this one, though nothing derogatory (I HATE that kind of thing). And, well . . . THAT scene . . . next chappie . . . read the note above before you kill me.

**ThePurpleEmperor:** Okay, wow, that's . . . um? -feels bad for making you cry- I hope this one is better!

Enjoy!  
Haruka Lune

* * *

"I'll see you in three weeks!" Harry announced brightly, throwing his arms around Remus' waist enthusiastically. He waved at Severus and Hermione, nodded frostily at Ron (who had refused to apologise to Luna, citing "a right to my own opinion, mate"), slipped an arm around Luna's back, and boarded the Hogwarts Express. Inside, he felt a slight pang of loss - he'd never travelled on the Hogwarts Express without Ron and Hermione, and while Hermione was on his side, she also had obligations to her boyfriend (although Harry still couldn't understand how she could stand being with someone who had, as Hermione had once so excellently put it, "the emotional range of a teaspoon").

In spite of his slight discomfort, he was also excited - he was spending the entire trip with Luna, Sirius was meeting him on the other end of the line, he had a fortnight and a half with the Grim Animagus before moving up to Kent, and Severus had promised him the bedroom with the cherry tree outside the window. The idea of having a bedroom that was entirely all his own was excitement enough; the idea that he had a cherry tree, too, just like Remus had described having a pear tree outside of _his_ window as a young boy (before he'd moved to the attic), was positivelythrilling to him.

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Severus turned to Remus expectantly. Remus considered.

The walk from the Apparition point (a wood on the other side of the village) had been close to three miles, though it was a pleasant three miles, at least. Remus had felt at home almost instantly as they passed a small market, a cinema, a bookstore, two or three other miscellaneous shops, a school so small that Remus could almost picture it as a one-room, a tea shop, another tea shop, and what Severus had referred to as "the ground shop" - which was to say, a shop which sold nothing but various kinds of ground coffee, ground tea, and ground tobacco. Now they were on the west end of town, looking at a house whose windows had been neatly covered in plywood to protect them from tree branches and young boys with stones. Some of the roof tiles were missing and the back porch was a complete mess (courtesy of late April thunderstorms), but for the rest it looked all right. Nothing a bit of paint and roof tile couldn't fix . . . or so Remus thought.

* * *

"Goodness, Severus, didn't you leave anything _useful _here?" Remus picked gingerly though a pile of old newspapers called "_Notizie di magia_," **(1)** also known as the Italian answer to the Daily Prophet. The oldest paper dated back fifteen years and detailed the downfall of "Lui Che Non deve Essere chiamato." **(2)** Remus understood only one word of the entire piece: _amava_, Italian for "he loved." Remus wouldn't have known even that if he hadn't known some small amount of Italian grammar, which he'd picked up while trying to understand an exceedingly exasperated Severus, who enjoyed swearing in very long and ungrammaticalstrings of an unintelligible mix of Spanish, Italian, and Rom **(3).**

He flicked dispiritedly through the rest of the papers. One announced Harry's return to the Wizarding world, a few were folded back to stories Remus couldn't read, and one - stuffed right in the middle and the _true_ oldest of them all - dated to August 1959 and listed the marriage of one Armando Snape and his English wife, Bronwen (4) Clowes. A small picture followed. They didn't look happy to be together. Another paper - the corner proclaimed it to be from the tenth of January, 1960 - had an announcement of Severus' birth the day before written in it, along with a lengthy commentary on something or other that Remus couldn't decipher with his limited knowledge. Remus, old-fashioned to the core, bit his lip as he counted backward in his head. December - November - October - September - August. Five months. He heard a slightly cynical chuckle behind him and turned around.

"Sometimes I wonder what people would think if they knew how right they are when they call me a misbegotten bastard," Severus remarked, pulling the newspaper out of Remus' hands and ripping it in half twice before throwing it in the fireplace. "And in answer to your question, there's a perfectly serviceable mattress upstairs . . . and I left everything in the kitchen when I abandoned the place eight years ago, so it should still be workable. Unless someone with faster fingers than brains decided to raid the place, of course."

"Good, so we can at least cook and - wait . . . _a_ mattress, Severus?"

"I'm sure I can find some pillows in the closet."

"One mattress."

"Is that a problem?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

For answer, Remus picked up the entire pile of yellowing newspapers and dumped them in the rubbish bin.

* * *

Remus sighed and stirred the rice on the stove. Severus hadn't lied when he said everything in the kitchen was intact. Unfortunately, this meant that everything in the kitchen was also food that Severus liked or had been able to afford eight years ago. Remus had an appetite for very little of it. Hand-cured cheddar cheese (which could be spoilt by almost nothing short of nuclear war), a good deal of pasta (of the sort used for stuffed shells, ravioli, and chicken alfredo), a half-eaten jar of chunky peanut butter (complete with spoon marks where Severus had apparently eaten it straight out of the jar), and tins of just about every tomato product imaginable: peeled tomatoes, stewed tomatoes, tomato paste, salsa with tomatoes, tomato puree (for what? Remus wondered), several jars of spaghetti sauce that were all beginning to grow mold.

And, of course, the rice.

Remus had found seven big sacks of it, each sack weighing about five pounds. Severus had recalled getting them on sale. Because of this poor choice in money management and the need to get the old food out before bringing in anything new (except perishables like fruit, vegetables, and meat, of course), they'd found themselves eating rice every day for the last week; rice porridge for breakfast (courtesy of a frantic telephone call to Remus' mother, who had supplied the recipe), chicken and rice on several occasions, several kinds of rice soup, and - the one Severus had devoured happily while Remus munched on a peanut butter sandwich, refusing to touch the mass that came out of the saucepan - rice in tomato puree (well, that answered one question) with quartered peeled tomatoes and a liberal amount of oregano. To this he had added cubed chicken, and the whole thing had vanished into his mouth. Remus took his half of the cubed chicken and made a salad for lunch the next day, at which time Severus had grumbled about eating still more rice while Remus smiled serenely and ate his second rice-free meal of the week.

Severus skipped dinner and ate the rest of the peanut butter. Early the next morning he vanished and returned two hours later with a vast supply of fruit which he called breakfast while Remus suffered quietly through more rice porridge.Remus was beginning to wonder how on earth the two of them were going to function as a couple living together outside of Hogwarts - so far their days had been mostly cooperative, though there had been several explosive quarrels that usually ended with Remus sulking and working upstairs,and Severus sulking on the open sunporch while replacing old glass panes. One day it had rained and both of them had worked separately on different ends of the house by unspoken agreement, both knowing that if they were forced by the weather to be together all day, they would kill each other by noon. It wasn't that they didn't get along, Remus thought, nor yet that they didn't care for each other; it was simply that, when thrown together in close quarters, their opinions were different enough to cause problems.

Now Severus was standing behind him, making him feel antsy and cramped. It had rained again today and Severus had spent the day in the greenhouse while Remus painted what would become Harry's room. Neither of them had seen each other since lunch (vegetable beef-and-rice soup), and Remus could feel the electric tension as surely as if he were about to touch a charged wire.

"Should you really be cooking when you're covered in paint?"

"Well, you were out in the greenhouse, so I thought I should -"

That did it. Severus knew (or, at least, _thought_ he knew) when someone was implying that he'd shirked his duty, and he knew that in this case he most certainly had _not_. He had cooked lunch, he had cooked dinner the day before, it was perfectly fair for Remus to be cooking now without making a production out of it, and he said as much in as many words, ceasing only when he realised that Remus had tears on his face and and was looking in the opposite direction. As soon as he cut off - right in the middle of a sentence - Remus turned and left the room, hurrying up the stairs so quickly that his footsteps could barely be heard.

That gave Severus pause more than anything else ever could. Remus never cried - not because he was an emotionless drone; if that had been the case Severus would have found it far less shocking - but because he was perpetually cheerful, able to see good in the most dire of situations. So what the hell had Severus done?

He turned off the rice and sat for several minutes with a small glass mug of tea, trying to figure out just what in the name of Circe he was supposed to do next, before saying to hell with it and going upstairs.

* * *

Remus was laying on the mattress he refused to sleep on (he'd opted for several blankets on the floor instead, insisting that he was far more comfortable that way; Severus had rolled his eyes and chosen not to say a word), sobbing in a most un-Remus-like manner. Severus was stunned - his previous experience with Remus suggested that the blonde would have thrown himself, with a furious energy, back into painting or stencilling or _something_ that was at least semi-productive. At least it would make his half-formed plan somewhat easier; he hadn't enjoyed the thought of trying to placate a furious Remus who was ignoring him better than anyone had ever done.

He ran his hand gently over Remus' shoulder.

"Remus?"

Sniff. Well, it was better than nothing.

"Remus, I . . . "

"You what?" Remus rolled over and inquired, some of his old fire coming right back as he sat up furiously. "You're just frustrated? You're tired? You didn't think? It never occurred to you that I'm working just as hard as you are, and I feel just as much as you do that for every three steps forward we're going two steps back? What?"

Severus sighed resignedly and closed his eyes. All of those things, of course, because he'd spent years not caring what anyone else thought and old habits died damn hard when you were under stress.

"I . . . look, why don't we go out tonight and just get out of the damn house? You've been working too hard and if you keep it up Harry's going to have a beautiful home and no parent to come home to. You'll kill yourself. You'll overstress yourself right into a heart attack, and I'd rather not deal with the sudden death of my loved ones when I'm home for the first time in eight years."

Remus looked somewhat stunned when Severus referred to him as a "loved one." It was a phrase the black-haired man had never used before, but . . .

"I've got to finish Harry's room tonight. I poured all the paint into the pan already."

"We can put a Preserving Charm on it. Go get in the shower."

Remus nodded in agreement, but instead of getting up to go get in the shower, he slid his arms around Severus' neck and laid his head on a dark shoulder. "I just feel so . . . like we're spinning our wheels, you know?"

Severus didn't - it was a phrase he'd never heard before - but he nodded anyway. Remus smiled a somewhat watery smile and pushed off for the one working bathroom in the house.

* * *

In town, Severus steered them toward a tea shop where they ordered a plate of sandwiches. Both of them had eaten enough rice to last them for a lifetime. They lingered for about an hour, both dreading the return back to the house - both of them agreed that it would be beautiful when they were done, but just now it felt like some kind of devouring monster. Finally Severus announced his intention of buying something from a nearby shop and told Remus to meet him at home. Remus dragged his feet all the way, feeling more than ever that he would like nothing so much as to use a few simple charms (which, while convenient, wouldn't produce nearly as good results as manual work) and get it over with.

* * *

Remus had just uncovered the paint when he heard Severus downstairs, rummaging in the kitchen. Several minutes later found him staring as his partner came into the room, rubbing his hands and looking exceedingly pleased about something - and then picking up a paintbrush. Severus seemed to have a mortal fear of painting; it was for that reason that Remus was now goggling at him like he'd just done a handstand with sparklers sticking out his ears. Both events were equally remarkable coming from the man in question.

"Let's get this knocked off tonight, and then tomorrow we can clean up the floor and lay the carpeting, and then we'll be done in here until we move the furniture in, right?" Remus just nodded.

* * *

He scrubbed red paint off his skin with a fervor; Remus hated the feeling of drying paint. It made him feel like his skin was being pulled on in the most annoying way. Finally he was able to rinse off and get out of the shower. The master bathroom, at least, had also still been in working order along with the kitchen - in fact, it was rather nice - so Remus had not had to give up the luxury of a hot shower. He wrapped his dressing gown around himself and stepped out of the bathroom - and right into Severus' arms. Severus embraced him for several seconds before saying anything, and when he did, he spoke so softly that Remus almost didn't hear it.

"I'm sorry."

Remus snuggled closer, smelled the dust on Severus' dressing gown, and sneezed slightly. Then he laughed. Severus pulled him back into the bedroom, where Remus promptly started rummaging through his trunk, looking for night clothes. Finally extracting a pair of rather ugly cotton pajama bottoms (and making Severus wonder why, exactly, Gryffindors seemed to be so obsessed with red-white-and-black tartan plaid), Remus tugged them on and made for his blanket nest several feet from the mattress.

"Remus Lupin, if you insist on sleeping on the damn floor one more time, I'm going to be sleeping on the floor with you."

Remus turned around and had to fight the urge to laugh long and hard. Severus was wearing a disapproving look so reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall that Remus almost expected him to start taking House points. Then the reality of what Severus had said began to sink in, and the urge passed almost immediately. Severus intended for both of them to sleep on the mattress. Together.

Shit.

Remus stood with his mouth open, trying to formulate a decent response, and finally gave up when Severus closed the bathroom door and the water went on one more time.

* * *

"Er - what's this for, Severus?"

Remus eyed the bottle of wine Severus had picked up in town. He didn't doubt his partner's taste - on the few rare occasions that they'd gotten a bottle over dinner, Severus had proven that he was perfectly capable of choosing a decent wine, even if he was no expert - but he _was_ wondering what on God's green earth could have compelled Severus to bring a bottle of wine into a mostly disordered house.

"We're celebrating."

"Celebrating _what_?"

"We only have one room left to paint, and since it's our own, we can take as much damn time as we feel like." Severus offered him a glass, which Remus accepted and tasted cautiously (Severus did have good taste in drinks, but Remus simply couldn't stand dry wine).

"Severus, why does this taste like strawberries?"

"Because it's strawberry wine** (5).** You told me you liked it."

"I do. I just didn't know you could get it around here."

Severus snorted. "We're in a small town, Remus, not the middle of nowhere."

Remus sighed and smiled to himself. This, he enjoyed. This might make all the repetitive and mind-numbing work worth his time.

He snuggled down into the sheets on the mattress.

"Good night, Severus."

* * *

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

**(1)** "News of Magic" in Italian.

**(2)** "He Who Must Not Be Named" in Italian. This refers to Voldemort.

**(3)** A more common but less correct term for the Romis "gypsy" or "gipsy."

**(4)** A Welsh name meaning "dark, pure." Bronwen Clowes is, obviously, a pureblood since this story was started before HBP and Severus is a pureblood in this fic. Armando's name means "of the army."

**(5)** When we moved into our new house and finally got the kitchen unpacked, my mom and I pulled out a bottle of strawberry wine to toast the new place (and all our hard work!). I've had champagne and sips of a few mixed drinks (NOTE TO PEOPLE WHO'VE NEVER HAD ALCOHOL: you're really not missing anything), and didn't really like them - but strawberry wine is quite good. Not something I'd drink every day, but not half bad, either. I don't see Remus enjoying "strong" tasting drinks, so this would be something he'd like.


	26. 25: With Joy

**LINER NOTES:**

It's official, "Bottle" is one year old! And what a year it has been. This time notes will be at the end of the chapter, please read them for some important information.

As always, this story is rated **T/PG-13** for **implied sexual scenes**, **language**, and **homosexuality**. Don't like, don't read - but don't flame.

* * *

"Where on earth have you been?" Severus pounced on Remus as soon as he entered the kitchen. An unperturbed Remus set four brown paper bags on the table and started unpacking them.

"I wanted to get something for dinner . . . and we needed paint for the sunporch. Greenhouse. Whatever you call it."

"Why do you need paint for the greenhouse? It's _glass_, Remus, you don't paint glass."

"But the frames holding the glass in place are made out of wood, and that's already been painted at least once, so I don't see why I can't paint it again. White in a greenhouse always looks horrible, Severus, and it gets so _dirty_. I've been scrubbing the damned frames for a week and they still look like nobody's touched them in twenty years."

"Twenty-five. They haven't been painted since I was twelve."

"See? That's my point," Remus announced triumphantly. Severus sighed.

"Fine. Paint it. But if you get any paint on the glass -"

"I won't get any paint on the glass, Severus. You're forgetting the kind of family I grew up in." Remus set the fourth bag on a chair by the door that led out to the room that had formerly been a sunporch (Severus' "few rare specimens" had more or less taken over since he'd started growing his own potion ingredients - the last functional furniture had left the room fifteen years ago), and then pulled out the cutting board so he could slice tomatoes.

* * *

Severus slipped into the greenhouse, massaging his hands. He'd spent the evening painting the bedroom (they'd celebrated "one more room" only to discover that Severus' office also needed to be repainted, as did the room down the hall that Remus wanted for only Merlin knew what - but those rooms could wait), and his hands felt horrible. He thought there was something very wrong with the idea that a man could spend sixteen years grading thousands of essays a year, and yet when he picked up a paintbrush he got something akin to very bad writer's cramp.

"Remus, what the _hell_ are you doing?"

Remus looked up from where he was cheerfully running a wide roll of tape around the windows. "Keeping paint off the glass."

"You mean you haven't even started yet?"

Remus' eyes bugged. "I had to move everything out of here, Severus, and that meant looking up every single one of those plants so I wouldn't damage any of them, and then I spent half an hour trying to find one of them in your magical plants dictionary only to realise it was basil - you could have saved me time and told me that you had an herb garden out here too - and then when I was done with that I had to wash the windows before putting up the tape so it would stick - even those new pieces you put in were positively filthy - so no, Severus, I haven't started yet!"

Severus held up his hands defensively. "All right, I understand, it's an eyesore and I need to learn to clean up when playtime is over. You don't have to yell."

Remus smiled. The smile grew wider, and before too long he was laughing loudly. "_Playtime_? Is that what you call it?"

"Why not? It's something I enjoy doing, so you can't really call it work."

Remus shook his head and rolled his eyes. He reached the end of the windows and slapped the tape roll down on an old card table with a sigh. "Finally." He surveyed his handiwork momentarily before moving back to the other end of the greenhouse and picking up a small can of paint.

"Why don't we have a cup of tea and then I'll help you." Severus decided not to _ask_ the words, since Remus would undoubtedly have said that he could handle it just fine on his own, thanks. With this in mind, he _stated_ the words instead. It was all a matter of inflection and, as he'd expected, Remus looked grateful.

For a smile like the one Remus gave him, he would have taken a bullet to the head. A bit of pain in his fingers was nothing.

* * *

Remus leaned back into the pillow on his side of the mattress and sighed. He was tired - he'd spent the morning trying to make the back yard usable, the afternoon had gone to scrubbing the brick patio, and until eleven o'clock that evening he'd been on the sunporch. None of it was particularly _hard_ work, although Remus suspected that could be why it made him so tired - his hands did a good deal, but his mind had lain idle for most of the day, something he found peculiarly exhausting. To top everything off, it was unbelievably hot for a night in Britain, and he didn't think he'd be able to sleep at all. Remus had forsaken his normal nightclothes in favor of a pair of blue jean cutoffs that had formerly belonged to Severus (he'd found them in a trunk in the attic, and Severus had confessed to wearing them for yardwork - back when there had been an actual yard to work in, as opposed to a forest of weeds). They were maddeningly hot around his waist, but he was stuck with either the blue jeans, or a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and he was _not_ going to wear flannel on a night when the thermometer read 26 degrees (1).

Severus stumbled out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. Normally he would have used a drying spell - he hated going to bed with wet hair, or even damp hair - but Severus, who spent most of his time in a cool, windowless dungeon, was even less tolerant than Remus when it came to the unpleasant heat. He'd taken a cool shower, and he intended to let his hair stay wet - if not dripping - as long as possible. It kept the heat away. Remus raised an eyebrow when he moved out the door and down the staircase, but that was all. Good.

* * *

"What's this for?" Remus eyed the small bottle of strawberry wine, now about half-empty from their last "celebration." He didn't know where Severus had kept it, and experience told him that Severus could store things in very strange places - only this afternoon he had found a bunch of paperback books in the linen closet, stacked up underneath the spare bedsheets, for no apparent reason.

"It sounded like a good idea, so I brought it up from the cellar. We've got to drink it soon in any case. I think it's starting to go over."

"Wine doesn't go over that quickly if it's been resealed, Severus - the _cellar?_"

Severus shrugged. "There's a wine rack down there. I found it when I was clearing out all my old school essays."

Remus cringed. If the wine rack had been covered up by old, musty boxes for so long that Severus had forgotten it even existed - a mean feat in and of itself, since Severus almost never forgot _anything_ - Remus wasn't too sure he wanted to be drinking something that had been sitting in it. He slowly dragged himself back to whatever Severus was saying.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

Severus rolled his eyes and looked irritated. "I said, I never even knew it was there. I didn't even keep cooking wine in the house until a year or two ago, and I haven't been here since before Harry started at Hogwarts, so there hasn't been any alcohol here since my father died. I never had any use for a wine rack."

Remus couldn't help himself. "Did you clean it?"

"No, I shoved the bottle in through a few cobwebs and rolled it around in the dust for awhile before I put the glass back over the front of the rack. Of _course _I cleaned it before I used it, Remus, do you think I want old parchment bits floating in my glass?"

Remus smiled sheepishly. "Sorry . . . shall we have a toast, then?"

* * *

"- but I've never done anything worse than that. What about you?" Remus knew full well he shouldn't have had two glasses of wine so close together - he hadn't been lying when he said he really couldn't handle alcohol - but he hadn't been able to help himself, and it was only the two of them in the house, anyway. He was still far from drunk, but he knew this this glass - his third, although he'd only allowed Severus to fill it halfway - would have to be the last one or he _would_ end up with a problem.

Severus considered the question carefully before answering. "Once when I was twenty-two I got really stoned - don't look at me that way, Remus, there were a bunch of us all drinking from the same fizzy drink (2) bottle and apparently somebody laced it with something - and I got my ear pierced in three places. It swelled up so much I couldn't even get the hoops out."

"You had your ears pierced with _hoops_? Severus, you're _never_ supposed to pierce with hoops!"

"One ear, Remus, one ear. Three holes. And really, if I was so high I was willing to get my ear pierced at all, do you honestly think I was in any condition to know _how_ it should be pierced?"

"True. Did I ever show you the tattoo I gave myself?"

"No, but I've seen the one on your back. For lack of a better word, it's creepy - as my sister would say."

"And what, may I ask, is so creepy about a scene from Hamlet? _I _think it's very - noblish. Noble. Something like that. Take this away from me before I get pissed (3) absolutely out of my mind and do something really stupid, won't you?" Remus handed over his wineglass.

"It's too hot to be drinking like this," Severus admonished (he had already had three and a half glasses and was showing no visible effects).

"You're the one who started it," Remus pointed out. "If there wasn't anyone else around I think I'd go skinny-dipping. I don't remember ever having a night this hot in Devonshire."

"You probably never did. And you can undress if you're so damn hot, you don't have anything I've never seen before on myself a thousand times at least. Unless you have a Prince Albert ring. I never got around to getting one of those before my insane phase passed."

Remus laughed. "Neither did I. But these jeans are staying right where they are, Don Juan."

Severus considered that last statement. Contrary to popular belief, he was not as impervious to alcohol as he liked to pretend, and he'd had just enough to consider being really, really foolish.

"Want to make a bet on that?"

"A bet on what?"

"Your blue jeans."

Remus made a face. "I don't have anything to bet."

"If I win, you have to do whatever I want."

"And if you lose, Severus?"

"Remus . . . I never lose." He leaned over to kiss his blonde-haired partner on the mouth, and revelled in the sweet taste the wine had left on Remus' lips. Remus looked slightly unfocused, probably reciting the multiplication table backward or listing the countries of the world or _whatever_ damn thing he did to keep himself calm in the face of temptation, which struck daily about a thousand times. He tried to shift his weight to his other leg to compensate for Severus' greater size, and they tumbled down onto the sheets, the light blanket twisting itself maddeningly around Severus' knee as he landed with his back on the mattress and his head just below his pillow. Remus hit his head on the edge of the mattress and laughed.

"This isn't going to work, Severus."

Severus kicked the blanket off the mattress (why did they have a blanket, even a light cotton one, in the middle of July? he wondered - it wasn't as though they needed it) and threw his weight to the right, rolling them over and away from the side. He planted one hand firmly on either side of Remus' head and took a deep breath - the rapid change in position had left him lightheaded, as though he were hanging upside down by his knees from the monkey bars on a Muggle playground.

"Do you want to bet on that, too?"

* * *

Harry sat nervously with his head pressed tightly against Sirius' back and his legs clinging to the saddle for dear life - _why_ had he allowed himself to believe that there wouldn't be so much difference between a broomstick and a flying motorbike? He had been determined to learn to ride the monstrous thing Sirius called "Black Beauty." Then Sirius had kickstarted the motor and Harry had squeaked in a manner that was embarrassingly reminiscent of Lavender Brown getting caught misbehaving in class. He couldn't imagine how anything that size could sound so _loud_, how an inanimate object could seem so positively _feral_, and wondered why Sirius hadn't gone deaf years ago. Then they'd gone around a corner on their way out of London (Ministry rules said no flying in or within ten kilometers of large cities, so they'd had to wait until they were twenty minutes into the country to find out if the levitating mechanism even worked anymore), he'd grabbed onto Sirius' waist feeling grateful that he hadn't been pitched off, and he'd been sitting in the same position ever since. He wasn't planning on letting go. Ever. He knew full well that as soon as he did - even if they were back on solid ground and the bike was turned off - he was going to fall off, and the machine was going to topple right over on top of him and break his back (which, according to a frighteningly casual Sirius, was perfectly possible if you weren't careful).

They came down at last just outside of a small town whose name Harry didn't catch, and roared off through the village. Not everyone stared, but a few people did, most notably girls around Harry's age or so who seemed to be staring not at the blue jean-clad boy on the back, but the man in the black dragonhide jacket sitting in front. Harry wondered if Sirius had noticed, and if he had, what he thought of it. Remus had said on several occasions that Sirius didn't notice attention unless he wasn't getting it, so maybe he didn't even realise what kind of trail he was leaving behind him - or maybe he did, and was just laughing to himself about it. The thought would have made Harry laugh if he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not falling off - something he was actually in no danger of doing, although he had no way of knowing that.

The bike stopped in front of a white house with a large front porch. The back tire skidded. Harry yelled in panic, the sound muffled by Sirius' jacket - and then Sirius put down the kickstand and Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Sirius looked over his shoulder as far as he could and grinned, although Harry didn't see it because he'd buried his face in the back of Sirius' jacket as soon as the bike had started to skid. "Isn't this great?"

"I'm never getting on this thing _again_, Sirius, you drive like a lunatic!" Harry had finally plucked up enough courage to raise his head about an inch so he could express his outrage. "You could have gotten us both _killed_."

"Nah. It's not as easy to wreck this thing as you seem to think it is, Harry. Now would you mind letting go? My legs need a decent blood supply if I'm going to stand up."

Harry blushed and released his death grip on Sirius' waist. "Sorry."

Sirius shrugged. "Remus doesn't like it either. I tried to teach him how to ride it - this was years ago - and he just sort of stared at me like I'd gone out of my mind." Sirius' tone made it clear that he thought Remus was missing out on something really wonderful. Harry thought Remus was definitely the one with the right idea - _he_ certainly wasn't going to be learning how to ride that monster!

By the time Harry had allowed himself to be coaxed off the bike and onto a set of still-shaking legs (and if Sirius liked flying so much, why hadn't they just used brooms? Harry wondered), Remus had come out onto the porch and was waving at them from the front steps. Harry sped up so he could hug the man - he'd missed Remus for the past three weeks more than he'd ever missed anyone in his entire life - and enjoy the good feeling of a friendly, familiar face in a place he'd never been before. He hugged Remus tightly and thenwrinkled his nose- apparently Remus had spent his morning working in dust. Harry pulled away so he could sneeze.

"Still got a suicide death wish, then, have you, Sirius?" Remus queried as Sirius returned from wheeling the motorbike carefully to the other side of the house. Sirius grinned at Remus' disapproving look and shook his head before offering Harry a paper tissue (Sirius absolutely refused to carry a cloth handkerchief for some reason). Harry sneezed one more time into the tissue (what exactly had Remus been _doing_ to get so dusty, he wondered, rolling around in the yard?) before cutting in on Sirius' and Remus' conversation as a sudden realisation popped into his head.

"Remus, you've been shagging!"

Remus tried to look disapproving again, but a blush was slowly creeping up his cheeks. "Harry, that's _completely_ inappropriate! And it's also none of your business."

Sirius stepped back and scrutinised Remus carefully. "You know, Moony, he's right, you do have that sort of starry-eyed I-just-spent-my-night-in-a-place-without-supervision kind of look."

Remus favored Sirius with a look that might have been a scowl if Remus had allowed it to develop more fully. Instead it just looked like a pout. "I'm not even going to respond to that, Sirius. Come on, let's go."

Harry panicked. "Go where?"

This time Remus smiled. "Severus told me, quite clearly, that I'm not allowed back in the house -"

"_WHAT?_"

"- until four o'clock," Remus continued serenely, as though Harry hadn't spoken at all. "So I thought we could go into town and get some tea - there's this really amazing shop just a block from the main road - and then we can pick up a few things before we come back out here. That ought to take up the time fairly well - Harry, where on earth is your trunk?"

Harry glanced helplessly at Sirius, who shrugged. "Figured I could send it through the Floo tonight so we wouldn't have to worry about it on the bike, Moony. You can't Shrink something that big without Shrinking everything inside of it first, and that takes too damn long."

Remus sighed. "Right."

* * *

"It's so nice up here when you're not screaming along on a deathtrip," Harry said, breaking a long silence. Remus smiled at him and laughed a little.

"A deathtrip, Harry?"

"Yeah, on that motorbike. I think next time I'll stick with my broom. I've had enough bad experiences with flying vehicles for one lifetime, thanks."

Remus shifted his shopping bag to his other hand and chuckled. "Severus told me about you and Ron trying to run over the Whomping Willow. You're quite lucky you managed to get out in one piece - well, two pieces, I suppose you can't really say 'one piece' when it's two people."

Harry kicked a stone sitting on the side of the road - the streets in town were paved, but a mile past the edge of the village the roads all became dirt. Remus said they got horribly dusty sometimes - probably because of the drought. In a normal summer, they'd be too wet - or recently wet - to blow all over the place. Before too long the road ended, and they stepped onto the grass in the front yard. What Harry took for a cat wrapped around Remus' legs and purred.

"Hello, Sadie - Harry, this is Sadie. She's a Kneazle. Severus got her in London."

Harry squatted down andreached out cautiously to scratch behind her ears. "Er . . . hi?"

Remus laughed as Sadie batted at Harry's hand. "She likes to play with moving things, Harry - you might want to be careful." He banged on the frame of the screen door.

"Hey! Are we allowed out of exile yet?"

Severus' voice floated down the stairs. "Ten more minutes. You can't come up yet."

"Are we at least allowed in the house?"

A long pause.

"I suppose."

Remus smiled and shook his head before leading his two escorts into the living room. Harry gaped. He had never imagined a place that was spotlessly clean . . . and welcoming. Privet Drive was spotless - and horrible. Hogwarts was neat and tidy, but it was a school and was therefore never completely clean - except for the hospital wing, a place Harry hated. The Burrow was clean but chaotic - and full of what Aunt Petunia would have termed "junk." The old apartment he'd shared with Remus was dusted and vaccuumed . . . most of the time . . . and there were always enough dishes to eat from, but the beds were rarely made and there was usually a large amount of general clutter. It was also the place where Harry had been happiest, and so through a process of elimination he had come to equate cleanliness with unhappiness.

This room, though, seemed to speak of a life where order abounded and good feelings reigned supreme. Instead of the unyielding, easy-to-clean furniture he'd suffered at the Dursleys, this living room had soft fabric chairs and a sofa, and a rug that covered most of the floor (he could see wooden tiles around the edges of the carpet). The coffee table came from the same set as the sofa and chairs, but they didn't feel stiff and formal even though they matched each other. The pale curtains were clean, but not starched to death; they hung naturally, allowing the summer breeze to blow them gently inward like the top layer of a formal gown. The fireplace was made of large stones which, though they weren't covered in soot, bore all the telltale signs of having been used, and sitting on one side of the wide front edge was a large gameboard made of cloth that could be used for playing draughts (4) or wizard's chess. Several pictures were hung on the wooden posts that formed a bannister for the staircase. There were two empty spaces on the end, but Harry was less concerned with these than with the fact that he was in not one but two of the photographs already hanging there. He'd never had his picture hung on the wall before. He suspected that the large cupboard on the far side of the fireplace was probably full of the puzzles and games Remus so dearly enjoyed - there was, after all, a book shelf right next to it that was filled with his collection of mystery stories.

Remus guided them through this room and into the kitchen, which was just as clean, bright, and beautiful as the living room, with the same tiles on the floor (but only two small rugs, one in front of the sink and the other in front of the oven). Harry glanced at the framed picture hanging over the kitchen table and then did a double-take. In the middle of the frame was a cloth sack, the front of which proclaimed that it had once been filled with "MacPherson's Rice." Remus saw him staring, and laughed.

"We had to eat seven bags of that - that - eeeeeeeccccchhhhhh," Remus finally concluded, before adding, "We only made it through two - we gave the rest away - and that's one of the two we finished. We figured we'd keep the bag, just to remind ourselves. And you never know who's going to see it and ask why we have a framed rice bag hanging over the kitchen table. Makes a great conversation piece."

Remus motioned the two of them to sit down and poured iced tea (Harry opted for a cold glass of milk instead) before he moved to the counter to turn something that was soaking in something else, explaining as he did so that there was a barbecue pit on the back patio and they were having some kind of marinated chicken recipe that belonged to Severus.

"And tomorrow," he continued, "we're having cheeseburgers. It'll be the first meal with red meat in it that we've eaten in the house since we got here. Severus said that once we get a general order we can start planning meals if we want, like we did when it was just you and me in the house, Harry. Have a biscuit, they're in the jar on the table. I have no idea what they're called - Severus gave me the recipe so I could make them, but they're some kind of Spanish thing (5). He's got this old cookbook that's full of positively loads of foreign things -"

"Foreign only to someone who never bothered learning about anything that wasn't Cajun, Southwestern, or traditional," a familar voice announced from the doorway. Harry, his mouth full of the Spanish biscuit, had to settle for semi-shouting "Mmmmphhh!" to announce his presence - he would never have imagined that he could miss Severus Snape, of all people, but on the other hand, his Marauderish genes seemed to be saying, there was a prime opportunity . . .

Harry swallowed. "Severus, your shirt's buttoned wrong."

Severus looked mildly annoyed and started rebuttoning his shirt as he moved to sit down at the table. "I just got dressed. I didn't bother changing out of my work clothes until I was finished."

Remus, still standing by the countertop, chuckled into his hand and then blushed as Sirius sent him a pointed stare. Remus finished with the chicken and joined them at the table. Severus jumped up as he did. Remus raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic display of energy.

"What on _earth_ got into you today, Severus? You've been up and down all -"

Remus broke off to glare at Sirius and Harry, who were both laughing.

"Care to share the joke, Harry?"

Harry continued to snicker helplessly, while Sirius managed to plaster on an unconvincing look of angelic innocence. Remus sat and waited until Harry caught his breath.

"I was only just thinking, it's not necessarily that something _else_ got into _him_, but maybe _he_ got -"

"All right, that's quite enough," Severus broke in from the back door, where he was balancing the tray of chicken, one-handed, on his knee so he could open the door. "We're going to be eating in twenty minutes. Don't make me punish you for indecencyyour first day here."

Harry rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his milk in a single swallow. "Okay, _now_ are we allowed upstairs?"

Remus called out the back door. "Severus?"

There was an indistinct answer from the far side of the patio.

"Are we allowed to go upstairs yet?"

Another indistinct answer. Remus chuckled.

"As long as we don't go into the room at the top of the stairs - not the bathroom, the one next to the linen closet."

"Um . . . okay."

* * *

"Well, what do you think?" Remus pressed, as Harry stood wide-eyed in the door of the bedroom. 

It was magnificent. The two or three rag rugs (courtesy of Gram, who loved making them) were new, laid over an oak-plank floor almost like the one in the living room at Devonshire. The wooden furniture was exactly like the furniture in Remus' childhood bedroom - Harry highly suspected it had been made by Remus, senior - and for the first time in his life, Harry had _things_. His own comb and hairbrush (instead of the old ones he'd scavenged from the trash when Aunt Petunia had thrown them out) sat next to a small stack of cassette tapes on the mirror-backed dresser, and a cassette player sat in the corner on a set of shelves. The bureau, Remus told him, already had his clothes in it - some were older, "gently-used" clothes from a couple of Remus' American cousins (it was tacitly accepted that these were work or play clothes), but most were new (or clothes that Sirius had already sent on a week ago), and they fit him instead of hanging off like old skin. There were books on those shelves in the corner, too, and even though he couldn't see them, Harry knew they had to be interesting - he trusted Remus and Severus for that. The window looked out on the back yard, and a small houseplant was sitting on the sill. There was a small sofa where he could sit and read, and a tall three-bulb lamp next to the desk pushed neatly into the corner opposite the shelves. The walls had been painted a fresh, light sugar-brown color with a cream-colored skirting board and trim. The ceiling was just like the floor, only stained (Remus had gone into positive esctacies about it; he loved wooden ceilings). In the coming months he would be able to reach out the window, pick a pear, and eat it down to the core before depositing the remains in the dustbin next to the desk. Harry was certain there would be other things in places he couldn't see - in the desk, the bedside table, the closet, maybe a couple of treats hidden in the bureau or under the mattress. And better than any of that, he thought, was the fact that he could do with it as he saw fit - a poster or picture on the walls, blinds instead of curtains, the furniture in different positions.

"It's mine."

Remus thought he wouldn't ever get tired of those hugs.

* * *

"Mmmmmmm." Harry shoveled a mouthful of chicken and noodles into his mouth.

Severus raised an eyebrow as Harry gulped a healthy mouthful of tea and went back to the noodles. "You know, we have a saying in Italy about people like you."

"Mmmmmm?"

"Roughly translated, it says 'he who acts like a pig will be butchered for his bacon and bristles.'"

Harry swallowed with a good deal of difficulty. "But Sirius didn't feed me. He can't cook. So we just had loads of sandwiches and McDonald's and things like that. I _need_ some nutritious food before I just waste away into nothingness, right, Remus?"

Remus responded by primly cutting a small bite off of the chicken breast in front of him, mixing it with a bit of pasta, and then carefully lifting the whole thing to his mouth.

Sirius chuckled. Harry sighed.

* * *

"So, that's that, then," Remus announced, as he put the last of the dishes in the cupboard. "You need to get ready for bed, Harry, it's almost nine o'clock. It'll be past ten before you can get to bed."

Harry sighed before plodding upstairs to take a bath and put on his pyjamas. He didn't want the evening to end - but then on the other hand, he'd still be here tomorrow.

* * *

Some time in the night, Remus became conscious of being watched. He opened his eyes slowly and found Harry standing in the doorway, peering in.

"Harry? Do you need anything?"

Harry jumped and then answered, smiling a little.

"No, I'm fine." There was a pause before the door closed. Remus smiled and laid back down, curling up under the light blanket. Next to him, Severus rolled over and settled back.

Far away, thunder sounded - rain was on its way.

And on the other side of the hall, in a room with a pear tree outside the window, the happiest boy in the world only wished he could look in the Mirror of Erised at that moment. It would be a great conversation piece if he could only have told people that he'd looked, and seen only himself, exactly as he was.

**END OFYEAR ONE**

* * *

**AUTHOR NOTES: **Phew! We've finally made it. This is far from the end of the story though, so don't despair (or if you're getting bored, I guess you can get off here . . . ha ha). "Bottle" has two more years in Harry-world, plus final edits, to go through. Incidentally, I started writing (NOT prewriting, there's a difference with me) exactly a year ago. "Bottle" first made its appearance on the Internet on 1 January, 2005. What an amazing year it has been! Thank you all so much for sticking with me and helping me to become a better writer, friend, and person with your emails and conversations.

There will from this point onward be TWO epic stories going on in this account: "Bottle" will soon be joined by the first chapter of "Harry Potter and the Riddle Glass," a version of the long-awaited Book Seven for all those too impatient to wait for J.K. Rowling. If you like "Bottle," you will almost certainly like "Riddle Glass!" It has the benefit of a full year's improvement and a very well-written plot (according to those who have beta'ed the plot for loopholes . . . ). This means, however, that I will be alternating chapters of "Bottle" with chapters of "Glass," so if I normally update once a month (for example), it will now be every other month - one month for one story, one month for the other.

Always,  
Haruka Lune

**REFERENCE NOTES:**

(1) Celcius degrees. The Fahrenheit temperature (for US readers) would be 80.

(2) "Fizzy drink" is the English (as opposed to American) word for soda pop.

(3) Drunk.

(4) Checkers.

(5) The food I am thinking of here is called a "churro." They are sweet and the recipe I tried had chocolate in the middle and was made with rum, although there are several different kinds.


End file.
